Daughter of Mystra, Paladin of Tyr
by Anpwhotep
Summary: Three years after "Daughter of Mystra", Imoen and her family travel to Neverwinter when they learn of the Wailing Death, to offer their help to Aribeth. The surprise that awaits them changes everything they thought they knew.
1. Chapter 1

Aribeth de Tylmarande studied the parchment in front of her, and scowled at the presumption of whoever had sent it. As if it wasn't bad enough that she had to deal with that evil bitch who had maneuvered her way into being known as the Hero of Neverwinter, now some strangers were bothering her with claims of knowing the source of the Wailing Death – something no one in Lord Nasher's employ had been able to discover. Even now, she had been packing for the expedition to Port Llast that Lord Nasher had ordered, based on hints he claimed to have received from Aarin Gend. Given that all such hints went through her before reaching Lord Nasher, she had strong doubts that whatever he was basing his orders on had anything to do with Aarin, but her questions had been swept away like mosquitos in a gale.

She picked up the parchment – made of a material she had never seen before, but which reminded her vaguely of the output of one of the artists who had worked near the river before the Plague had killed so much of the city – and re-read it.

Lady Aribeth, First, we would like to apologize for not arriving in Neverwinter sooner. When we heard about your Plague, we set out immediately, but, I am sorry to say, did not take the most expeditious of routes. Hopefully, the benefits we gained from our encounters along the way make the delay worth it. Regardless of our delay, I do hope that by now, you have unmasked the false Helmites and dealt with them and their leader. If, in the process of eliminating the People of the Eye, Lord Nasher chose to execute Fenthick Moss as well, it will go some way toward confirming some suspicions we have regarding the nature of the Plague and its source. We offer our services in dealing with the source of the Plague, as well as those who serve that source. We are known in lands south and east of here as "The Shadowdale Three", although we now number four, due to a fortuitous encounter along the road. Our group consists of a paladin of Kelemvor, a monk of the Yellow Rose, the eighth daughter of Mystra, and a sorceress who pledges allegiance to Sharess. We are more than an adventuring party: we are a family, and we are willing to place our talents at your disposal, for your sake and for the sake of the people you protect. If you wish our assistance in this matter, you have but to affix your personal seal to this letter, beside our seals, and burn it. If this is your choice, please be certain to do so in a location where there is both privacy and enough room for a dozen horses. I personally recommend the graveyard, as it meets both those requirements and is within the city, as well. If you do not wish our assistance, simply dispose of this letter as you would any other unwanted missives. You should know, however, that we will be pursuing our own investigations regardless of whether you choose to work with us personally. We intend to hunt down the being that created the misery your people recently suffered, and ensure that it is not capable of spreading that misery to any other part of the world. Wouldn't it be better if we join forces in this endeavor?

The bottom of the letter did not bear any names – all it had was a set of four seals: one was a holy symbol of Kelemvor over a crossed pair of what looked like bowless drow dart-throwers; one was a yellow rose over a cane; one was an eight-pointed star made up of smaller stars; and the last was a pair of lips, impressed in silver wax. There was room on the letter for one – and only one – additional seal. Aribeth bit her lip as she considered the offer. Given the claims made in the letter, this group would be infinitely better to work with than the "Hero of Neverwinter", who she hoped to never have dealings with again.

She searched through the papers that had piled up on her desk during the crisis, until she found her personal sealing kit. Whoever these people were, she would meet them. She could always send them away if they were not what they claimed. It took but a moment to melt the necessary wax and affix her seal to the letter.

While the seal hardened, she began donning her armor for a trip to the Great Graveyard. While she was donning her armor, one of her guard knocked on her door.

"Enter!" Aribeth called, while absently tightening the last buckle on her breastplate.

"My lady," the guard started, paused, then asked, "Does my lady need an escort?"

Aribeth turned to look toward the guard, gave him a weak smile, and said, "Not this time, Gaston. I need to clear my head, and that is best done alone." At the look of incipient rebellion in his eyes, Aribeth sighed. "All right, all right, you may come. But if I must have an escort, I need it to be … you, Jean Luc, Louis the Small, and Phillipe. No one else. And there should be no record of this trip in the log."

"I … see," Gaston said. "What should I tell Lady Penelope?"

"You should tell her to rot in Hell!" Aribeth snapped. Realizing what she had done, she sighed, then said, "Tell her that I will speak with her in Port Llast, all right?"

"Of course," Gaston said, his voice betraying no reaction to either the outburst or the follow-up. "Might I suggest that advising Lady Penelope to rot in Hell would be somewhat pointless? She is too likely to enjoy it."

Aribeth looked at Gaston, stunned by his response, then began to laugh. Her laughter quickly overwhelmed her, and she sat, still laughing, while Gaston slipped out of her office.

The Great Graveyard showed fewer signs of the mass deaths of the Plague than the rest of the city. Other than the remains of undead that had not made their way out into Beggar's Nest before being destroyed, it still appeared restful and untouched. Aribeth remembered how, before the Plague, the graveyard had been a favorite picnic spot for many people, and, looking around, it was easy to see why.

"We're being followed," Louis hissed. "What do you want?"

"Delay them," Aribeth said, "but unless they are hostile, don't harm them."

"'sallright," Louis said, then vanished between the graves.

Aribeth led the rest through a gap between two bluffs, around the one to the left, and then up a flight of stairs to the top, where she found the picnic spot she had most enjoyed when Fenthick was alive. There was still some wood left from the last campfire someone had built. She gathered the wood together and quickly had a small fire going.

"I don't know what is going to happen, gentlemen," Aribeth said, as she took out the letter, "but if this works, we will have new allies to help us defend Neverwinter." She paused, then added, "If it doesn't, we'll have had a pleasant outing, and be refreshed for our duties."

"If I'd known we were going on a picnic," Jean Luc commented, "I'd have brought some wine."

Aribeth laughed. Trust Jean Luc to think of wine before anyone else. Then again, his family's vineyard was noted for some of the best wine in Neverwinter. As if her laughter were a signal, the others joined in, and began talking about their ideas for ideal picnic items.

"All right, gentlemen," Aribeth said, stilling the conversation in an instant. "It's time to find out what, if anything, happens when I follow the directions on this letter."

She fed the letter into the fire. As she watched, the strange parchment caught fire as if it were made of wood splinters. It curled as it burned, leaving behind a black ash that crumbled at a breath of air. The flames reached the seals, and the wax melted and ran together, forming a puddle in the middle of the fire that burned a bright blue around the edges. Suddenly, the entire fire vanished in a brilliant blue flash, and a man and three women appeared around where it had been, positioned as if they had been sitting at a table. As they started to fall, the silver-haired woman snapped her fingers, and they levitated for long enough to get their feet under them.

"Didn't I tell you it would happen just as we were sitting down to dinner?" one of the dark-haired women asked, laughing.

"At least we hadn't ordered yet," the other dark-haired woman said.

"Hi!" the silver-haired woman said, bouncing – Aribeth had to do a double-take on that: yes, she was actually _bouncing!_ – over to Aribeth. "I'm Puff! You must be Aribeth, right?"

"Oy," the man groaned. "Puff, remember your human etiquette lessons?"

"But she's an _elf!_" Puff protested.

"She's also a paladin of Tyr," the man said. "That means she probably needs a staffectomy."

"You're no fun!" Puff declared, pouting at the man, while Phillipe and Jean Luc looked as if they were about to explode from keeping in their laughter, and Gaston looked even more inscrutable than usual.

"Yes," Aribeth said, "I am the Lady Aribeth de Tylmarande. You are, I take it, the people who sent me the letter?"

"That we are," the man said. "Imoen? Any company we don't want?"

The dark-haired woman who had laughed a few moments before chanted briefly, then shook her head. "The nearest unwanted company is a couple hundred yards away, and it looks like one of her guards is keeping them busy."

"Do we need to squash them?" the man asked.

"So far, no," Imoen replied. "Even if we do, Lada can take them all out with one blast."

The other woman jumped, as if mentioning her name had frightened her. When she jumped, she turned, and Aribeth realized why she had looked slightly odd. She was blind. So blind that she didn't even have the body language of a sighted person.

"Well then," the man said, extending his right hand toward Aribeth. "Since you have called us, I supposed introductions are in order. I am Fred MacManus, paladin of Kelemvor. Puff is Puff I' Liyalai MacManus, sorceress and follower of Sharess." He gestured with his left hand as he continued. "This lovely lady is Lada MacManus, monk of the Yellow Rose. And this lovely lady is Imoen MacManus, daughter of Mystra."

Aribeth's eyes narrowed as she listened to the introductions. The letter had said they were a family. The introductions seemed to confirm that claim. The potential power they provided made it very tempting to overlook the apparent arrangement of their family, but it was still cause for concern.

Fred looked at Aribeth for a moment, apparently studying her, then laughed. "Yes, I am indeed their token husband. I hope that little detail isn't going to bother you, especially with the larger fish we have to fry."

"Make mine shark!" Puff put in, laughing.

"Brat," Fred fired back at Puff, then re-focused his attention on Aribeth. "Regardless of our apparent youth, we have some experience in dealing with problems. Each of us has our personal specialties, and we know where your trouble comes from, and how to deal with it. The problem is, the most obvious solution is one that Tyr is not likely to approve of, as it involves you going undercover. Therefore, we need to find a different solution."

"Me going undercover?" Aribeth blurted out. "You're right, we need to find a different solution. You say you know where our trouble comes from? What is it?"

"Under Neverwinter is an artifact that dates back to the time of the sarrukh," Fred said. "Within that artifact, the last queen of the sarrukh, a particularly vicious reptile named Morag, is imprisoned with her most loyal servants. No one knows quite how she was awakened, but she has been – and the results have already been devastating. She created the Wailing Death, in order to devour the souls of those who died, and use them to fuel her own power so that when she escapes from the artifact, she can immediately conquer the North, with Neverwinter as her capital."

"Wait, wait," Aribeth said. "You expect me to believe this story? Where is your proof?"

"Lord Nasher is my proof," Fred said. "If what I believe happened has actually happened, then his reaction to our arrival in this city will reveal it."

"Oh?" Aribeth asked. "And why would that be?"

"Puff?" Fred asked. "Would you?"

"Of course, my love," Puff said. She stepped away from the others, and transformed. Aribeth stared in shock as the bouncy, perky girl revealed herself to be a young silver dragon.

"Uh …," Aribeth said, then blurted the first thought that came to her mind. "Are you old enough to be away from the nest?"

"Comparatively speaking," Fred said, "She's as old as we are. Well, as old as Imoen, anyway. Lada and I are a bit older than we appear to be."

"If you go by experience, I'm older than anyone here," Imoen snorted. Fred extended a hand to her, and she accepted his embrace – with quite a bit of gratitude, it appeared to Aribeth.

Puff returned to her human guise and spoke again. "Fred thinks we can prove whether your Lord Nasher has been changed by what happened here, if we go to an audience with him."

"Since the sarrukh and the dragons were mortal enemies," Fred said, "we'll be able to tell if Lord Nasher is possessed, simply by having Puff walk into whatever room he holds court in. Of course, before we do that, you'll need to ensure that only guards who you trust implicitly, like the ones you have with you here, are on duty."

"You think Lord Nasher is possessed?" Aribeth asked, studying Fred intently. "Why?"

"He and the Oleff, both," Fred said. "I think they have been possessed ever since they let Desther give them his special blessing. Remember what those blessings did to ordinary people?"

"I do," Aribeth admitted.

"Yet they're both still alive," Fred said. "I suspect that, rather than killing them, Morag used Desther's blessings to put the spirits of loyal servants into their bodies, so that Neverwinter would be weakened against her, so that its own leaders would be tools to help her overcome its defenses and bring to her the power she needs to escape her prison."

Aribeth thought about what Fred was saying. It was true, most of those who had received the blessings of the false Helmites had weakened and died more quickly than those who had not. At the same time, it was also true that Lord Nasher and Judge Oleff had both received those blessings and yet had not died. Instead, they had changed, become more harsh and unyielding, had become more willing to use methods and tactics that they would have rejected before the Plague.

"Another point that comes to mind," Fred said, "is the question of whether you have been able to get answers from Tyr when you pray to him. Your Yuan-Ti worshiped her, and claimed that Morag was more powerful than Merrshaulk. That means she believed Morag was more powerful than Helm, to put it in local terms. If that's the case, I suspect she's using her power to hinder those who pray to any gods in this city, and especially those who pray to Tyr, since he is the God who is most closely associated with the city's defense." He looked directly at Aribeth and added, his voice firm and certain, "In fact, I would suspect that anyone in this city who is truly faithful to Tyr is, right now, suffering from dreams and visions that make it appear that Tyr is turning his back on them, and that he is rejecting them as unworthy of him."

Aribeth gasped. How did he know what was contained in her dreams? It was as if he had been right there with her, witnessing Tyr reject her.

"The only reason someone would have visions like that," Fred continued, as if he didn't notice Aribeth's reaction, "would be if he – or she – were absolutely faithful to Tyr, with unswerving loyalty and devotion. Exactly the kind of servant that Tyr would never turn away from. Exactly the kind of servant who is most dangerous to Morag, if that servant maintains her loyalty despite the false visions being imposed on her by Morag."

"How?" Aribeth asked, at a loss for words.

"I know the story," Fred said. "It's an old story, one that repeats itself in one form or another in every world, every time, every place. Morag's prison, in fact, is a crossroads of dimensions, opening on many worlds besides this one, which makes her a menace not only to this world but to every other world she touches, as well." He looked into Aribeth's eyes, and she noticed that his gaze was filled with compassion, warmth, and – no, she didn't want to recognize that – he was completely focused on her, in a way not even Fenthick had ever been. "You, Aribeth, have the power to destroy her, if you are willing to use it. If you are willing, we will stand beside you."

"You …," Aribeth whispered, then realized what she was doing and steeled herself to speak aloud. "You offer yourselves …," what he was offering penetrated her thoughts and her next words came out as a squeak, "… to _me?_"

"To _you_, Aribeth," Fred said, reaching out to take her sword hand in his own. "We are yours. Not Nasher's, not Neverwinter's. We came here to join _you_."

"What of the rest of you?" Aribeth asked, trying to pull her thoughts together. Why did this stranger, who was clearly already involved with three other women, one of whom was a dragon, affect her this way? And what of his women?

"Where Fred goes, I go," Lada said. "He has absolute faith in you, and I trust him, so I trust you."

"He has …," Aribeth looked from Lada to Fred. "_Why?_"

"It's a long story," Fred said, "but the fact that you're not already Fallen and serving Morag confirms that you are everything I believe you to be."

"He's right," Imoen said. "The amount of magical power that's going into perverting this place means that anyone who can resist it, for the sake of her faith, is someone who deserves our trust and devotion."

"But …," Aribeth started, then realized she didn't know what to say.

"Trust us?" Puff said, stepping forward and embracing Aribeth. Aribeth stiffened, then let out a soft sob as Puff whispered into her ear, "We will love you enough to make up for those who hurt you. I promise. Fred says you deserve to be loved and trusted, and I believe he is right."

Puff gently nipped Aribeth's earlobe, sending a shiver down her spine. Aribeth tried to maintain her composure, but there was something about Puff's touch that made it impossible. She found herself sobbing as all the pain of Fenthick's loss came back to her: the love she had carried for him, the hopes and dreams she had had for their future together, everything that had been taken away when he was executed. As she sank to her knees, Puff sank with her, holding Aribeth to her breast and gently stroking her hair, soothing her as she sobbed out all the bitterness and sorrow she had been carrying in her heart.

While Aribeth sobbed in Puff's arms, she noted somewhere in the back of her thoughts that Fred was talking quietly with Gaston, and Imoen and Lada were talking with Jean Luc and Philippe


	2. Chapter 2

Getting Aribeth to meet us had been easier than I had anticipated. The way she broke down in Puff's arms was something of a surprise, though. We hadn't known what Gaston told me – that Aribeth had been riding the edge ever since Fenthick's death, and when we showed up with our ready understanding and acceptance, it had been exactly what she had needed to release some of the pent-up anguish she was suffering.

Admittedly, Gaston didn't seem to be overcome with trust for us, but then again, his devotion to Aribeth made it clear that he would mistrust anyone who swept into her life the way we had, even if it had been Tyr himself. Not that a visit from Tyr would have been out of order just now. Aribeth really needed reassurance that her God still believed in her as much as she believed in him.

Once Gaston and I had come to an agreement that we both were primarily concerned with Aribeth, I pulled Lada aside to find out her impressions.

"Are you picking anything unusual up?" I asked.

"Aside from enough psychic energy to give me a migraine?" she answered. "I think you're right about Morag. Aribeth is being constantly assaulted by someone. Or maybe several someones. I can filter it out, but it would make them suspicious."

"Can you create a false persona for them to focus on, instead of Aribeth?" I asked.

"I … I don't know," Lada said. "I've never tried anything like that."

"Try it," I suggested. "I think Aribeth could become one of us, if we can just get her free of the attacks."

"I think she could become one of us even if we don't," Lada said, smiling. "Just look at how well Puff is doing with her."

"Puff's giving her an outlet for her grief," I said. "I'm not sure how much more she's able to handle right now."

"Trust me," Lada said, "what I'm feeling from her is not entirely grief. If she was giving this kind of energy to Fenthick, they'd have been the perfect couple."

"Given how much pain she's in?" I said, "I think they probably were. But right now, I just want to get her free of the attacks."

"I'll do what I can," Lada said. "It's going to take me a little time to build up the false persona, though."

"Can you bleed off the pain while you're doing it, or are we going to have to do that for you?" I asked.

"Hmmm ...," Lada said, then paused for several seconds. "You know, I could use the pain to help make the persona more believable."

"That's good news," I said. "Seriously good. We'll work on keeping her distracted, then, while you work on the persona."

"All right," Lada said.

I knew Lada would do everything she could, so I left her to her work while I talked with Imoen. I noticed that Gaston was talking with his men, probably to get their analysis of our group. That worked for me.

"What's the situation, love?" I asked, squeezing Imoen's hand as I did.

"They're worried about her, naturally," Imoen said. "There are apparently three groups within the guards. Those loyal to Aribeth, those loyal to Nasher, and those who don't care who's in charge, as long as they're defending Neverwinter. Since the Plague, those loyal to Nasher have become more dangerous. Aribeth's faction have spent almost as much energy defending people from Nasher's faction as they have watching for external enemies."

"Sounds like we have more to do than I expected, then," I said.

"Given how sketchy that silly game of yours was," Imoen said, "I'm not surprised. Still, if we can deal with Morag and get them back on their feet, it'll help make a reputation for us in this part of the world, too."

"Good thing," I said. "Having a good reputation will help us if we have to spend any time here."

Imoen nodded toward Gaston, and I looked that way. He was approaching us, while his men stood back, waiting.

"Yes?" I asked, when Gaston got into conversation distance.

"I would like to know," Gaston asked, "if you intend to make the acquaintance of the … Hero … of Neverwinter."

No doubt about it. The way he put it, he did not like having to use the word in relation to whoever it was.

"I suppose we'll have to," I said, with a heavy sigh. "I get the feeling, though, that we're not going to like it, are we?"

"That all depends," Gaston said, deadpan. "Do you have a fondness for pathological bloodthirsty homicidal maniacs?"

"Only if they're in comics – OOF!" I said, glancing at the spot where Imoen had planted her elbow in my ribs. "Seriously, though, no. I tend to kill them."

"Unfortunately," Gaston said, "this one saved Neverwinter from the Plague. She's an accomplished wizard – far more so than anyone expected, given her age and lack of experience when she came to the Academy." He paused, considering his words, apparently, then added, "It's as if she transformed during her training, from the confused innocent that she was when she arrived, into some sort of evil beast."

"Transformed?" I asked. "Did anyone survive who saw this transformation take place?"

"Unfortunately, no," Gaston said. "I have to say, it's not as literal as all that. She still appears as she did before her change. It's her soul that's different. The closest I can compare it to is possession, except for the fact that if it is a possession, it's the kind that an exorcism will not work to expel."

"So," I suggested, "we need to keep Aribeth away from her, too?"

"It would be for the best," Gaston said. "Everything about her arouses Lady Aribeth's instincts as a paladin, yet because of her service to Neverwinter, she cannot deal with her as she should."

Imoen's hand squeezed mine – hard – and she whispered, "That sounds like …." She raised her voice and asked, "What is the name of this … Hero?"

"Her name?" Gaston asked. "I take it you were transported in from some ways away, then, if you do not know the name of Penelope of Candlekeep."

Imoen went white. Her terror was palpable enough that I could feel it, and I'm as sensitive as a rock. As suddenly as she blanched, she collapsed, unconscious.

Lada looked at me over her unconscious form and said, "I hope I did that quickly enough. She should stay out until I'm done with what I was working on."

"I hope so, too," I said. "Thank you, love." Meanwhile, my mind was racing. Elminster had said she was dead. How could she be alive and in Neverwinter? It didn't make any sense, not unless … yes, I supposed that could be possible. We wouldn't be able to find out until we had a chance to examine her. Preferably dead. The important thing to remember was that, assuming Elminster had been right when he told us what he told us, she was no longer a divine child. She was, at best, the clone of a powerful wizard, and had, apparently, required some time to recover her soul when she had been activated. That meant she shouldn't be as powerful as Imoen or Puff alone, and the two combined could easily best her, even without considering Lada's talents, or my own.

"Thanks for the reality check," Lada thought at me, her distraction apparent in her tone.

I scooped up Imoen and carried her over to sit beside Puff and Aribeth, attempting to reduce the distractions Lada had to deal with while doing her work.

"I take it you recognize the name?" Gaston asked, once I was sitting with Imoen curled up in my arms.

"Oh yes," I said. "We had hoped she would stay dead. Apparently, though, she had a clone waiting for that contingency."

"You had hoped …?" Gaston asked. I think it was the first time I saw actual surprise on his face. It vanished as quickly as it appeared, though. Apparently, the deadpan butler schtick was his trademark.

"Yes," I growled. "She spent six years torturing someone I love, and that someone only managed to escape her when Mystra herself intervened. She died three or four years ago – I'm not sure of the exact date of her death – along with every other Bhaalchild in the world."

"She was a Bhaalchild?" Gaston asked. He sat facing me and demanded, "Tell me everything you know about her."

"Imoen knows the most," I said, "but what I know is that she was one of Bhaal's children, raised in Candlekeep by a monk named Gorion. Even in Candlekeep, she found ways to incorporate torture and degradation into her practice of magic, so when Sarevok tried to use the Iron Throne to advance his goal of ruling the Sword Coast as the incarnation of Bhaal, she was able to defeat him and take his place. Not long after she did that, though, Jonaleth Irenicus kidnapped her in an attempt to steal her divine spark and use it to regain his own immortality. She defeated him and recovered her power, then became involved in the wars between the various children of Bhaal, as they all fought to become the one to claim his throne. From what I've learned, though, she failed, and was killed by Bhaal's former high priestess, in Hell, where her death should have been permanent." I paused, thought a moment, then said, "The only way she could be here, now, is if she had prepared a clone and hid it somewhere in this part of the world before taking part in the wars. Still, that could explain the change in her that your people witnessed. If her clone activated without her soul, and then her soul managed to find its way from Hell to Neverwinter some time after the clone had developed its own personality, it could explain the change."

"Doesn't work that way," Imoen mumbled, wrapping her arms around me and clutching me with all her strength.

"Sorry," Lada said softly, still obviously distracted by her work.

"We're here, love," I said gently, holding Imoen close. "She's not getting you without going through us, first. What do you mean, it doesn't work that way?"

"Clone needs a soul," Imoen said, snuggling against me. "No soul, it's just dead flesh."

"So how would it have activated, if she died in Hell?" I asked.

"Maybe it's not a clone," Imoen said. "Maybe she was sent back."

"That's even stranger," I said. "What could possibly profit by sending her back?"

"Anything that could use her power," Imoen said.

"Fred," Lada asked, still sounding distracted, "can you ask when you pray in the morning? See if he can tell you anything?"

"It can't hurt to try," I said. "Hell's not his domain, but a soul being sent back to the physical world, after its time to die, _is_."

Imoen snuggled against me, as if she were trying to hide herself inside my chest, and whispered, "Never again. I won't let her. Never again."

"_We_ won't let her, sweetheart," I said. "Every one of us will fight her for your sake."

"This is the one?" Gaston asked quietly. "Mystra herself intervened?"

"That's right," I said. "And now, she's a child of Mystra."

"If she's a child of Mystra, Penelope doesn't stand a chance," Gaston said. "If not for the fact that she's a favorite of Lord Nasher, I'd be tempted to send her up here to meet you in person."

"And if you did, I would thank you for the opportunity," I said, looking Gaston in the eye. It was clear, he understood exactly what I meant, and agreed.

"We can't do that, though," Aribeth said. "Not officially." I looked toward her voice, and saw that she had curled up in Puff's arms, while Puff was tenderly blotting away her tears with a handkerchief.

"Of course," I said. "I wouldn't dream of asking you to do anything official with her." I thought a moment, then smiled as a very cold thought crossed my mind. "In fact, we want her _alive_. After all, she has work to do for Neverwinter, when you get to Port Llast. Important work. We'll just have to make sure that Aarin Gend gives her the right information when she speaks with him."

"He's scheming again," Imoen said, punctuating it with a sound that was somewhere between a hiccup and a giggle. "Someone's in deep, deep trouble."

"Mmm-hmm," I agreed, smiling. "Someone is very definitely in deep, deep trouble. Here's hoping it's terminal trouble."

"I'm going to have to not know, aren't I?" Aribeth asked.

"If only for the sake of being able to not lie when you say you don't know, yes," I said. "As a paladin of Tyr, you can't lie, right?" Aribeth nodded in response, while looking at me as if searching for some clue in my face. I reached out with my free hand and gently touched her cheek, while I looked into her eyes. "So, if we don't tell you, then you won't be lying if you say you don't know."

"Fenthick," Aribeth whispered, almost a sob, as she pressed her cheek into my hand.

"We can't bring him back," I said, as soothingly as I could, "but we can extract payment from those responsible."

"Oy, boss," a small, weaselly-looking guard said, as he slipped into view from behind a bush. "They chased their own tails right out of the Graveyard." He stared at Aribeth as if she had sprouted horns – or as if curling up in the arms of another woman was something he'd never imagined her capable of.

"Good work, Louis," Aribeth said. "These are the people we came out here to meet. The man with the bastard sword is Fred MacManus, paladin of Kelemvor. The woman in his arms is Imoen MacManus, daughter of Mystra." Louis stared long and hard at Imoen, as if her name meant something to him. "The woman with me is Puff I'Liyalai MacManus, sorceress and servant of Sharess, and the woman who looks as if she's having a bad headache is Lada MacManus, monk of the Yellow Rose."

"Imoen, eh?" Louis asked. "You wouldn't happen to be from Candlekeep, would you?"

"Uh, yes?" Imoen answered, stiffening in my arms, until I had to nuzzle the side of her neck and whisper to her to get her to relax.

"Thought so," Louis said. "Our so-called 'Hero' has mentioned your name a time or two. OK, more than a time or two. She's positively obsessed with finding you."

Imoen whimpered and buried her face in my chest. Within moments, she was unconscious again, and Lada nodded to me when I glanced over at her.

"Positively obsessed, you say?" I asked. "That could work in our favor. What's she been doing since the Plague ended?"

"Skulking about in the homes of thieves, pirates, and assassins," Louis said. "When she's not doing that, she's at the Cloaktower, or ranting about the greatness that was stolen from her, whatever that means. She's spent a lot of the money she gained, working for Neverwinter, on hiring bounty hunters and spies, all of them to find your Imoen." Louis peered at Imoen curiously and asked, "Why?"

I considered the question. Would Imoen want the information spread widely? Then again, these were people Aribeth trusted enough to bring them here with her when she answered our letter. That meant that Aribeth, at least, trusted them implicitly. I looked over at Aribeth and raised an eyebrow in question. She looked me in the eyes and nodded. That was enough for me.

"Imoen was her slave, for six years," I said. "Mystra intervened personally to save her – from Penelope and from Irenicus. I have no doubt that Penelope considers Mystra's intervention to be theft."

Louis stared at Imoen for a few moments, then asked, "How old was she when she became a slave? Ten?"

"Exactly," I said. "And Penelope was the same age. But, Penelope had already acquired the more obvious of her father's personality traits, and so she needed a victim to ply her trade on. Imoen was lost, confused, and easy prey, so Penelope took her."

"Her father's personality traits?" Louis asked.

"Oh, you know, the usual," I said. "Sadistic, bloodthirsty, homicidal, evil to the core, that kind of thing. It's too bad, really. From what I've heard, not every child of Bhaal had those traits."

"Not every … child of Bhaal," Louis said, slowly, staring at me intently. "You're saying that Penelope of Candlekeep is a child of Bhaal."

"Not any more," I said. "At least, if what we were told is correct, since she died in Hell, she's no more a child of Bhaal than you or I. But, since she died in Hell, someone has to have decided she's useful enough, as a tool, to have sent her back. When I have a chance, I'm going to be searching for more information on that."


	3. Chapter 3

Aribeth watched the interplay between the MacManuses. Fred was obviously their leader – and just as obviously, he relied on the others to act when they needed to, without his intervention. Lada knocking out Imoen was a good example of that. She still wasn't quite sure what they'd been talking about, with the 'false persona', but they seemed to believe it would help her fight off the horrible visions and dreams. If that was true, she would do anything for them to make it work.

Lada, while apparently being submissive to the others, also obviously had a backbone of steel, when it came to her work. On the one hand, Aribeth wished she hadn't told Fred what she was feeling, curled up in Puff's arms, but on the other hand, it made it easier to know what they thought of her. And apparently, that was a romantic attraction that – maybe because she felt so safe and loved in Puff's arms – she felt, herself.

Hearing what Louis had to say about Penelope, Aribeth felt something of a failure. She had completely missed what was going on under her nose, simply because it was being done by the 'Hero', and she had tried hard to not be too critical, to suppress her automatic reactions to Penelope, for the sake of Neverwinter.

Oddly, though, hearing what Penelope had done to Imoen made her more angry, more willing to act out of a desire for vengeance, than knowing what she had done in Neverwinter. It didn't make sense. Imoen was a stranger, yet she was reacting as if they were family.

Wait … Fred and Lada had talked about her becoming one of them. They wanted her to become one of them. One of their family? But they didn't even know her! First, they had offered themselves to her service, now they were talking about making her one of them? What was it with these people? She stared at Fred, then at Lada, then looked up at Puff.

"What is it, love?" Puff asked, while giving her a smile that could melt the hardest heart. "You look confused."

"You …," Aribeth started, then took a deep breath before asking, "Why? You want me to join you?"

"Yes, we do," Puff said, then bent to steal a kiss. Aribeth let out a soft gasp, realizing she liked it. "You are a good woman, you have a good heart, and the way you loved me when I took you in my arms, you have enough love to move mountains. Will you marry us, Aribeth?"

Aribeth's heart raced. Just like that, Puff asked her to marry them, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. It was absurd, of course, regardless of how she felt in her arms. They barely knew each other, they'd just met, and besides, she was a paladin of Tyr! She couldn't just go chasing off after a … three women and a man? … like this, especially with Fenthick dead so recently!

She glanced toward Fred, and saw he was watching her with an expression of concern. Not desire, not lust, he actually looked as if he was worried about her. The only other person who had ever given her that look – and then only when he thought she couldn't see him – was Gaston. Aribeth looked away, trying to hide her racing emotions while she tried to understand. Why did he care? Why did she feel so confused? Why did she feel so tempted? Why did this … this dragon affect her so much?

Aribeth pushed herself to her feet and stalked away from the others. She needed room to think, and as pleasant as Puff's embrace was, it was too distracting. She saw Puff start to rise to follow her, and Fred shake his head, pointing at the ground beside him. Good. He seemed to understand. She walked until she reached the far end of the bluff, drew her sword, and knelt to pray.

As she prayed, Aribeth felt something she had not experienced since before the Wailing Death became manifest: the firm hand of Tyr rested upon her, filling her with the understanding of justice she had once taken for granted. The loss and failures of the past months lifted from her, and Tyr filled her once again with the strength and sense of justice she had come to rely on since turning to his service. Regarding this 'Morag' Fred's people spoke of, and the visions Aribeth had suffered, Tyr only gave her a feeling that she should trust Fred, and follow his lead, as long as his actions were not unjust.

When she prayed about the feelings she had, the sensations and desires that Puff brought up in her, her fear that she was betraying Fenthick by feeling what she felt, so soon after his death, Tyr's response was … enigmatic, yet at the same time, direct. "A warrior does not defeat an army alone. Nor does a judge dispense justice without legislators, enforcers, and lawyers. So, too, one does not bring a strong and willful heart to heel without the aid of those who see that heart and love what they see."

Her? Strong and willful? Aribeth had trouble reconciling that with how weak and powerless she felt, with how she felt that Tyr was the only presence that gave her strength and security. And why did that confusion make him laugh? It was the first time she had ever had the sense of Tyr laughing, over anything. And he was laughing … because of her?

She sheathed her sword and slowly walked back to join the others, her mind caught up in trying to understand both how the miasma that had affected her for so long had suddenly lifted, and why Tyr was so amused by her confusion. Did he really see her as strong and willful? Was she really such a sinner? But if she was a sinner, why did he not rebuke her? Oh, now she was more confused than ever!

Fred and Gaston both rose as one, and called her name, in unison, as if they were worried about her. Aribeth waved them off, distracted by her thoughts. She looked around, and saw that all of her men were watching her, either waiting for her orders or with expressions of concern. Fred's people were also watching her, for the most part. Fred, openly concerned. Puff, all but vibrating in place as she obviously wanted to come to her, but was obeying Fred's direction to sit. Lada, her head tilted the way blind people did when they were listening for those around them. Imoen, still unconscious. Aribeth sighed. Things had just become both much easier, and much more difficult.

"We should probably return to my office," Aribeth said. "I'm supposed to be packing for my trip to Port Llast, after all."

Lada turned as red as one of Vengaul's costumes. Aribeth looked from Lada to Fred, and raised an eyebrow questioningly. Fred grinned, and reached over to poke Lada gently.

"You can has boy toy?" Fred asked, his voice barely avoiding laughter.

Lada sputtered, obviously embarrassed beyond belief, before managing to get out, "Bioware does get things wrong occasionally, dear."

"And you still want to find out for yourself," Fred shot back, chuckling.

You're being endearing again, dear," Lada said.

"She can has boy toy?" Aribeth asked, confused.

"She's wanted to meet Aarin Gend ever since we came to this world," Fred said, with a smile and a shrug.

Lada's blush became deeper, and she bowed her head as if trying to hide her face.

Aribeth smiled. Now it made at least a little sense, although the 'ever since we came to this world' was a surprise. She was going to have to interrogate him about that. Later.

"Well, if she wants to meet him, you're all going to have to go to Port Llast with us, aren't you?" Aribeth asked, her smile brightening when Fred nodded in agreement. "The question is, do you want to go as part of the official expedition, or should we meet you once we get there?"

"I think we should meet you once you're there," Fred said. "I have this feeling that too much official connection between us could be bad."

"Besides, we need to rework that spell," Lada said. "My cane is still at the inn."

"Imoen can summon it, once she's awake," Fred said. "Speaking of which, how is she doing?"

"She mostly needs her confidence bolstered," Lada said, then added, grumbling, "And to stop trying to scream through my shields. She's turning herself into a beacon every time she does that."

"Even with her cloak?" Fred asked. "Remember, she said it's supposed to make her completely undetectable by any magical means."

"Not that it helps against psychics," Puff said. "I can always find her, even when she's wearing her cloak."

"Good thing she's still unconscious," Lada said. "Don't tell her that when she wakes up, OK?"

Fred got to his feet, with Imoen in his arms, then said, "Well, if we're going to go to your office, we should get going, ne?"

Puff looked up at Fred and pouted, before asking, "Does that mean I can get up now?"

"You, my dear, are being a brat," Fred declared. "Of course it does."

Puff giggled as she bounced to her feet, then bounded over to Lada and asked, "Do you want my arm?" She followed that by stage-whispering, "Fred said I'm a brat! That means I get to get punished later! Yay!"

Now Fred's face was approaching the shade of crimson, while Lada lost any pretense of monkish discipline, falling to the ground as she laughed hysterically.

"Was it something I said?" Puff asked, while looking around with the most put-upon expression of innocence Aribeth had ever seen.

"Are you sure we should be associating with these people?" Gaston asked quietly.

"Puff," Fred said, while Aribeth was considering Gaston's question, "punishment is not supposed to be something you look forward to."

"It's not?" Puff asked, a comical expression of confusion on her face.

"Tyr seems to believe we should," Aribeth answered, just as quietly. "I'm willing to give them a chance."

"Fred," Lada said, as she regained her feet and brushed the dust and grass from her gi, "Epic Fail. Obviously, you've been doing it wrong."

"Apparently so," Fred said. "I guess I'm going to have to break out the punishment I hate to use."

"What's that?" Puff asked. Aribeth had to admit, she was curious now, too.

"The time-out corner," Fred said.

"What's that?" Puff asked. Aribeth had trouble holding in a snort of amusement. Given what she'd seen so far, that would be Puff's idea of hell. It would definitely be one punishment she would not look forward to.

"You'll find out," Fred said. "Later. For now, we need to be respectable adults, so we don't embarrass Aribeth and her men on our way through the city."

Puff pouted and looked at Lada. "Do you know? What is it? What is it?"

"You add three more minutes for every time you ask," Lada said, deadpan. Aribeth smiled. Lada had that deadpan tone down nearly as well as Gaston. She had to wonder if there were some special school monks went to, to learn how to do it. At the thought, she heard Lada's voice, wordlessly laughing in her mind. She was grateful Gaston couldn't read her mind.

Gaston took point on the way back to the office. By the time they had reached the Graveyard's gates, Fred was helping Imoen back to her feet, and spoke quietly with her while Philippe and Jean Luc opened the gates. Imoen nodded and smiled at Aribeth, then summoned Lada's cane and her own staff.

"I wish we could order pizza," Lada said, once they were in Aribeth's office and the door closed behind them.

"Pizza?" Aribeth asked. "What's that?"

"Good idea," Fred said. "Is there any place nearby that will deliver food?"

"Deliver …," Aribeth said, looking at Fred curiously. A place that delivered would make some days easier, but none of them did that. If you wanted to eat, you went to an inn or a cafe or a pub. They didn't come to you.

"Apparently not," Fred said. "All right, where's the nearest place that we can get something from fast?"

"There's Dibbler's," Louis suggested. Aribeth shuddered, as did Jean Luc and Philippe Gaston looked as if he had bitten into something bitter.

"Dibbler's?" Fred asked. "I'd cut my own throat before I ate anything sold by someone named Dibbler."

"How'd you know his sales pitch?" Louis asked.

"Let's just say," Fred said, "I've heard of Dibbler. He's kind of infamous."

"Lada asked for food? Wow! The world's coming to an end! I have an idea," Imoen said. She began chanting, and after a few moments, a table appeared in the room, laden with enough food for a feast. "Good. It worked. Since we all missed eating, there's enough for everyone."

Lada pouted at Imoen, and complained, "I wish Fred would invent the bicycle, so people _would_ deliver." Then she gave a faint smile and said, "Thank you."

"And then they could land on innocent martial artists' heads while delivering noodles," Fred laughed, and gave Lada a plate with selected foods on it.

"I thought Dibbler was only in Ankh-Morpork," Lada said. "Now I want treacle!"

"Freshly mined?" Fred asked, still laughing.

"It's probably not as good here," Lada pouted, then turned to Fred and poked his chest as she said, "And don't you dare put rancid yak butter in my tea!"

Fred laughed, apparently unable to answer. Aribeth looked at Lada and Fred, trying to understand what crazy world they had to have come from. Wherever it was, it sounded too insane for her.

"No," Imoen said, "we can't explain it, either."

"When they go off like this," Puff said, "we have absolutely no clue."

"Clues are highly overrated," Fred said, looking somewhere between grave and amused.

Lada applied herself to eating, the look on her face that of someone afraid she was going to lose everything she was eating, but forcing herself to eat anyway.

"I believe," Gaston said, "that there is still work to be done before your office is ready to move."

"Yes," Aribeth said. "Yes, there is." She looked around the office, let out a heavy sigh, then began sorting through her desk, organizing what items went in which boxes.

While she worked, Fred took a plate of food to her. Aribeth looked up, surprised. When she saw the look of concern on his face, she smiled her thanks at him. He nodded and retreated, to talk with Gaston. Aribeth briefly wondered if the two of them were conspiring to take care of her, then she noticed one of her favorite treats on the plate and decided she didn't care.

It had been late when they got back to her office, and it wasn't long before the sun dipped below the city wall, plunging the office into shadow. Aribeth looked up from her work, just as Imoen gestured at the wall torches, lighting them up in a crystal-clear white light, just bright enough to read without discomfort. The table of food had vanished, and Fred's people were helping her own to fill and organize boxes. Even Lada appeared to be doing something, although Aribeth couldn't decipher exactly what, as she sat in a corner, out of the way of the others.

Lada suddenly looked up, her head tilted in that odd way of blind people, and an instant later, three shuriken flew across the room and sank into something on the wall opposite her. The screaming of the shuriken got everyone's attention. Fred dropped the box he was carrying, and spun toward the sound, his hands suddenly filled with something Aribeth couldn't identify. Imoen snapped her hand out, and a ball of light enveloped the shurikens' target. Puff exhaled, and a cloud of ice particles filled the space between her and the unidentified target. Louis' hands filled with throwing daggers, while the rest of her men drew their swords.

Cursing came from the spot the shuriken marked, and a figure appeared, squirming out of the cloak that Lada had pinned to the wall. Now, Aribeth understood. Invisibility was useless against a blind person. The intruder saw all the hands raised against him, and raised his own hands, dropping the dagger he had been carrying.

"Whoa," the intruder said, clearly frightened. "I ain't bein' paid near enough for this. I surrender!"

"Who hired you?" Fred and Gaston growled out, almost in unison. They looked at each other, nodded, and turned their attention back to the intruder.

"I dunno!" the intruder said. When Imoen raised her staff and aimed it at him, he wailed, clearly terrified, "I'm telling you, I dunno! She done something to me, see. I can't remember. Not her name, not her face, nothing!"

"So how do you know it's a she?" Imoen asked.

"Perfume," the intruder said. "She wore perfume. Really fancy scent it was, too. Stays with you a long time, it does."

"Who was your target?" Fred asked.

"Lady Aribeth," the intruder said. "She said I was to make sure she was so dead the Tyrants couldn't resurrect her."

Imoen put down her staff, then chanted a moment, and the room filled with a distinctive, very rich and complex perfume. "Is this what you smelled?"

"Aye," the intruder said. Now he looked as if he were about to wet himself with terror. "That were the scent, it were."

Imoen banished the scent and let out a soft whimper. Puff laid a hand on her shoulder and whispered to her. Imoen's expression went from fear to simmering anger.

"How were you supposed to make Aribeth that dead?" Gaston asked. Fred opened his mouth an instant after Gaston, then closed it and nodded.

"Me dagger," the intruder said. "She gave it to me, as part of me payment. Said it would kill anyone it bit, kill them so dead not even Kelemvor could find them."

Fred … growled. The growl started as a low rumble in his chest, as he stalked toward the intruder, and ended up loud enough to fill the room, as his face twisted in an expression of barely-suppressed rage. The intruder squeaked and wet himself, then fell to the floor and whimpered what might have been pleas for mercy, if they had been understandable. Clearly he must have been incomprehensible, because no one would be pleading 'take me to the gallows, just don't let him have me', right?

"Fred?" Aribeth said, walking around her desk and approaching him. She reached him first, only because his women saw her approach and held back. She laid a hand on his arm and said, gently, "We have him, Fred. He can't harm anyone, and neither can his dagger."

Fred's back hunched, and his fists clenched around the … weapons? … in them. Aribeth reached up, took his face in her hands, and turned his head to look at her. When she looked into his eyes, she saw the rage, the anger, the barely-suppressed desire to kill, but she also saw fear, worry, and love. Yes, she had to admit it: when he looked at her, there was love in his gaze, and that love had fueled this outburst.

Aribeth spoke again, gently, as she looked into Fred's eyes, "It's all right, Fred. I'm safe. You …."

Fred suddenly pushed her aside, hard enough that she lost her footing and fell. Three explosions sounded from the weapons in his hands, and the intruder fell backward, his dagger dropping from his hand as he fell, two bloody holes in his chest and one where his nose had been.

"You know," Louis said, while Fred knelt to offer Aribeth his hand, "it's a lot easier to identify them if you leave their faces in one piece."

"Tattoos?" Fred asked. "Scars?" Aribeth smiled at Fred and took his hand, then rose with him. Just like that, he'd gone from simmering rage to gentle and solicitous, while his mind still worked at the problem of their attacker. How?

In the corner, Lada looked green, as if she were desperately trying to keep her lunch down. Puff knelt beside her and crooned softly. After a moment, Lada looked less distressed. Imoen knelt and waved her hands over the dagger, then turned green and looked very distressed herself.

"Uh …," Imoen said, "That … that …. We need to destroy that!"

"What can you tell us about it?" Gaston asked.

"It …," Imoen started, took a deep breath, swallowed, then recited, as if reading from a catalog, "The dagger enhances the user's ability to target his victim, as well as to penetrate his victim's armor. Once the victim has been bitten by the dagger, his soul will be drained, adding to the wielder's health and vitality. Should the victim's willpower be strong enough to resist the dagger's soul-draining ability, the wielder's soul will be drained instead. In either case, the drained soul will be devoured by the dagger, either to fuel its own powers or to provide the energy that it grants to its wielder." She paused, shook her head, then said, "I think there's something else there, but I can't get a grip on it, whatever it is.


	4. Chapter 4

"Great," Fred muttered. "A pocket-sized Mournblade."

"So, is it a demon?" Lada asked.

"No," Imoen said. "It's just a very evil weapon. Just the kind of thing Penelope would carry. I'm surprised she gave it to this nobody."

"He is a nobody," Louis said, after studying the intruder's hands and arms. "These tattoos tell me that he's Tricky Richard, a third-rate thief and second-story man. He's never done assassinations before, though."  
"She probably has a recall spell on it," Lada said. "We probably need to hurry, if you want to do anything with it." She yawned. "Fred, you can go pray, by the way. Good night." She curled up on the floor and fell asleep within moments.

Aribeth shook her head, trying to make the ringing go away. Fred noticed, and laid his hands on her. She felt the healing energy flow into her, and the ringing went away.

"Sorry about that," Fred said. "We all wear special earplugs, so I don't injure our ears when I shoot."

"When you shoot?" Aribeth asked. "What are those things? Those wounds look like what you get when you use bullets of smiting."

"Something like that," Fred said. He slid one of his weapons into a pouch on his belt, then worked a sliding piece on top of the other weapon. A brass bullet popped out of a hole in the sliding piece, and Fred caught it. He held it up so Aribeth could see it. "I get these specially made by the temple of Gond in Lantan. They use smokepowder to throw a bullet, instead of muscle power."

"Kind of like an arquebus?" Aribeth asked.

"Exactly," Fred said. "These are just more convenient to use. And since they spin when they fire, I can have bullets made with holes in them, like this, so that when they hit something, they expand. That means the hole they make gets bigger when they go in."

"So you can use little bullets like this," Aribeth said, thoughtfully, "and end up with wounds like a hand cannon?"

"Exactly," Fred said. "When I shoot someone, I want them to go down, right now." He looked around, then added, "There's only one real drawback. Sorry about the mess."

"As if fighting him with a sword wouldn't have been just as messy?" Aribeth asked, with a laugh. Fred joined her in laughing. Meanwhile, Puff snorted, then said two words of Draconic. At the first, all the blood and bits of flesh from Tricky Richard's body vanished. At the second, the empty bullet casings flew into her hands, while all the little things, that Tricky Richard had knocked over when he fell, returned to where they had been before he knocked them over.

"Thank you, Puff," Aribeth said.

"Thanks Puff," Fred said, at the same moment. He and Aribeth looked at each other, laughed, then Fred asked Aribeth,"Do you have somewhere I can go to pray? I don't need a full temple, or even a shrine, although those would be nice. For tonight, I'd be happy with just a quiet, private room."

"I was going to offer the four of you rooms here," Aribeth said. "If you're interested, that is."

"Are you sure that won't be a problem?" Fred asked. Aribeth noted that he seemed to be the one to do the worrying when Lada was out, while Puff did all the happy squealing. He turned to Puff and said, in that debased form of Draconic that kobolds used, "No, sweetheart, I don't think she means, in _her_ bed. Be good, be patient, and be her friend. If anything comes of that, you'll enjoy it all the more."

"Patient?" Imoen giggled. "I don't think that word is in her dictionary, Fred. In _any_ language."

"It is, too," Puff humphed, stamping her foot. "Right next to 'pain-in-the-butt'. So _there!_"

Imoen stuck her tongue out at Puff, who returned the favor, and the two were lost to rational discourse.

"Thank you," Aribeth said, quietly enough that she hoped only Fred would hear. "She's cute, but she's so excitable, she can be scary."

"I know," Fred said, as he crouched to scoop up Lada. "The first six months she was with us, Lada would jump out of her skin every time Puff came near her. They eventually worked it out, but never told me how they did it."

Aribeth led the way to the rooms she had chosen for the quartet. Before the Plague, the rooms had been used as a combination barracks and general mess by one of the groups of paladins that had been assigned to the temple. Since the Plague, they had been empty. Now, at least for a short while, there would be people in them again. On the way, she noticed that Imoen and Puff both checked repeatedly on Lada, as if they both worried for her health after ... whatever it was she had done.

At the door to their quarters, Fred turned to Aribeth and said, "Frak! I didn't think!"

"What?" Aribeth asked, with Puff and Imoen repeating the question before she could finish.

"The dagger," Fred said. "Don't let your men touch it."

"I wasn't planning to," Aribeth said, "but why?"

"There's only two instances I can think of where Imoen can't get everything there is to know about something magical," Fred said. "Especially something that powerful."

"Ohshit," Imoen gasped. "It's either cursed, or it's an artifact."

"Either way, it's trouble," Fred said.

Puff didn't say anything. She just vanished, with the familiar crack of teleportation. A moment later, she re-appeared, holding Louis in her arms, in a position that looked potentially fatal to Louis, but which kept him from getting his hands anywhere near her.

"Remove curse!" Puff yelled. "NOW!"

Fred reached into his pouch and pulled out a small cube. He said something in Draconic and tossed the cube into the room. It swelled until it filled the room, leaving just a three foot wide passage near the door. When it was fully grown, a door appeared in the side of the cube.

Fred said another word in Draconic, then barked, "Get in," as the door popped open. Puff led the way, with Imoen right behind her. Fred followed at the rear, still carrying Lada. Aribeth hesitated, then followed, not quite sure what she was walking into.

Inside, Aribeth saw an enormous, majestic grand hall, with marble pillars and arches, walls covered in polished pink granite, and the floor covered in polished black granite. Two doors opened off the hall on this level, one on each side, just before the grand staircase that rose to a balcony, in two graceful, mirror-image arcs. Another door opened off the balcony. The whole room was suffused with a light that was bright enough to easily read by, but gentle enough to not hurt the eyes.

"My scroll cabinet!" Fred barked. "Top compartment, second row, should be three or four in from the right. Puff, can you keep him contained while I put Lada to bed?"

"I can do that," Puff said. "I'm just worried I'm going to injure him like this."

"Smart girl," Fred said, as he started for the stairs. "Aribeth, will you read the scroll when Imoen brings it?"

"Eh – Yes," Aribeth said. She looked around, stunned by her surroundings. All this was in that cube Fred had thrown on the floor? How? It must be in another plane, but which one?

By the time Imoen had found the scroll and retrieved it, Fred had disappeared through the balcony door. Aribeth took the scroll and saw a piece of yellow parchment fall to the floor. She unrolled the scroll, scanned the text, and nodded. Good. It was a scroll to remove curses.

"Any time you're ready," Puff said.

"Oh, right, sorry," Aribeth said. She held up the scroll and began to read. Louis began to scream and struggle against Puff, forcing her to apply more pressure to keep him contained. There was a sharp crack! as the scroll came to an end, and Louis hung lump in Puff's arms, his head at an unnatural angle.

"Ohgodohgodohgodfixhim!" Puff whimpered, her face a study in shock, guilt, and misery.

"Louis?" Aribeth asked, moving forward to take him from Puff's arms. There was no doubt about it. His neck was broken, and he was no longer breathing.

Puff clutched Imoen as she sobbed, "I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryIdidn'tmeantodoit...."

Imoen patted Puff's back as she held her. "It'll be ok, sweetie. Aribeth and Fred can fix it. I promise."

"You're sure?" Puff whimpered, looking at Aribeth and Louis.

Aribeth knelt, and gently lay Louis on the floor. She kicked the dagger away from Louis' body, then took a scroll from her belt pouch.

"I'm sure," Imoen whispered. "Watch."

As Aribeth read the scroll, the room brightened, the light centered on the space between Aribeth and Louis. For a moment, the light appeared to have Louis' form, then it sank into his body, and he sat up, coughing and rubbing the back of his neck.

"See?" Imoen whispered. "What Lada did worked!"

Puff bounded to her feet, ran across the room, and knelt to hug Louis. "I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry."

"Louis?" Aribeth asked, smiling, holding in her amusement at the expression of confusion on his face. "Why did you pick up the dagger?"

"Pshh," Louis said, finally giving up and returning Puff's hug. "'sallright, kid. No hard feelings, eh?"

Puff kissed Louis' cheek, then bounced back across the room to hug Imoen. "He said no hard feelings!"

Louis looked curiously at Puff, shook his head, then looked at Aribeth. "Picked up the dagger? Whattaya talkin' about, boss?"

"You don't remember?" Aribeth asked. "All right, what's the last thing you _do_ remember?"

"We was talkin' 'bout the new crew," Louis said. "Gaston said he likes the way Fred respects you. Phillipe said he thinks we can work together OK. I was thinkin' we needed to lock the dagger away so you could use it as evidence."

Aribeth sighed. "That was a good thought, but we'll never be able to bring her to justice. Not in court, at least. Lord Nasher favors her, so the only way we could bring her up before him is if we caught her with blood on her hands from sacrificing someone to Velsharoon. Even then, there's likely to be a loophole he'd exploit."

"Oh yeah," Louis said, "but there's some courts as are higher, y'know?"

"Not when you serve Tyr," Aribeth said, firmly, but with a touch of regret. No, one could not violate the law as written, even in service of the greater good. Not when one serves Tyr. And should one violate the law, and his or her actions come to light, that person must be pursued vigorously, even if that violation is to the benefit of the greater good. But when the law is openly flouted, and the one responsible to enforce it openly turns a blind eye to the one flouting it, what can be done? While it was her duty to see that Penny was brought to justice, she already knew that Lord Nasher would declare that, as Lord of Neverwinter, he had the power and authority to pardon her. He had already done so, at least once, for every person in his faction of the Guard, for crimes ranging from petty vandalism to rape and murder.

Aribeth shut down that train of thought abruptly. She felt the old familiar rage threatening to return in full force, and knew that continuing consideration of Lord Nasher's behavior since the Plague would only give it food and strength. She hissed, through clenched teeth, "If I were to learn that she had been brought to justice by means other than those prescribed in the law, I would be forced to pursue the offender, no matter who he might be."

"So, it's in everyone's best interest that you never learn such a thing," Imoen said softly. "Louis, can you give me a hand? My dagger technique is getting a bit sloppy."

"Aye," Louis said, "that I can." He crossed the room to Imoen and Puff, leaving Aribeth alone with her thoughts.

Yes, it was in everyone's best interest that she never learn such a thing. Aribeth knew that the justice to be had in the court of Lord Nasher was tainted by whatever was tainting him, but as long as he kept to the strictures of the law, whatever he decided would be fully supported by Tyr – even if it were unconditional pardons, as long as the pardons were granted according to the procedures written in the law.

"Copper for your thoughts?" Fred asked, sitting beside her on the floor.

"I'm not sure they're worth that much," Aribeth said. She glanced at him, and saw he was studying her as if he were truly interested, not merely saying the words. "You really want to know, don't you? That's so strange."

"Why?" Fred asked. "Shouldn't people always want to know the answer before asking a question? Oh. Wait. Your answer doesn't involve the 'f' word, does it?"

"The 'f' word?" Aribeth asked, confused. What in the world was he talking about?

"Yeah," Fred said. "Feelings."

"Uh-oh!" Puff announced. "Fred's brought up the 'f' word!"

Imoen snorted and threw a pillow at Puff. Puff giggled and returned it, and the pillow fight was on.

Aribeth looked from Imoen and Puff to Fred, then asked, "Why should feelings be taboo?"

"I wish Lada were awake to translate for me," Fred muttered, then looked at Aribeth, with a look that made her feel as if she had his full attention, despite the battle going on just a few feet away, and said, "Imagine you were in a room, about the size of your office, with the walls, ceiling, and floor painted brilliant white." Aribeth thought for a moment, then nodded, and Fred continued. "Now, imagine that there's no way to get out. No doors, windows, or any other escape." Aribeth shuddered at the thought, and Fred continued again. "Finally, imagine that inside this room, someone has cast both a permanent Sound Burst spell and a permanent Dancing Lights spell." Aribeth imagined, and hugged herself as she imagined how horrible it would be to be trapped in that kind of place. "That's what emotions are like for me. Especially other people's emotions. One thing Lada, Imoen, and Puff can all do, to varying degrees, is translate for me, so I can, sometimes, understand emotions intellectually, even if I can't sort them out directly, because of all the flash and noise. Lada is the best at translating, partly because she has so much practice, but also because she seems to have an instinct for it. Maybe it's her psychic abilities that do it, maybe it's something else. I don't know, but whatever it is, she's the first person who was ever able to translate for me, and she's still the best at it. Imoen manages because she's so inherently good and has such a strong desire to help. I think Puff succeeds because her magic is all about emotions, and so she has to be able to translate them, the same way a bard has to be able to translate languages."

"So …," Aribeth said, slowly, as she sorted out her thoughts, "when you asked what I was thinking, you weren't just making meaningless noise … you didn't hesitate … until you thought it might involve feelings. Why?"

"Questions make more flash and noise," Fred said. "If I'm going to deal with more flash and noise, doesn't it stand to reason, I should have a good justification? And, if I'm going to endure the flash and noise, shouldn't I be getting everything I can out of it, in hopes of translating it to something I can understand? Asking a question I don't want the answer to … well, it just makes things uncomfortable for everyone."

Aribeth considered Fred's answer, then pondered what it said about him. It was clear there was more to it than he was saying – the way he looked at her made that patently obvious – but his answer was one that gave an explanation, as confusing as it was, while not pressuring her with things that she wasn't ready to think about right now. Obviously, even if emotions were as noisy and painful for him as he said, he understood well enough to give her _that_ consideration.

"I suppose you could say it involves feelings," Aribeth said, "but the feelings have to do with my concerns about how the Plague has affected all of us – even those who weren't infected. Right now, for instance, I am trying to work out how to uphold justice in a city in which the ruler has all but abandoned any pretense of obeying the law."

"And I suppose he hasn't abandoned it in favor of obeying the law of non-aggression, right?" Fred asked.

"The … law of non-aggression?" Aribeth asked. That's one she'd never heard of before.

"Well, it's more a principle than a law," Fred said, "but still, it's the closest thing to a law that I respect."

"But you're a paladin!" Aribeth protested.

"And Kelemvor and I seem to see eye-to-eye on this point," Fred said. "After all, his primary concerns, regarding the living, are that no one should die before his or her time, and that anyone or anything that causes people to die before their time needs to be dealt with as quickly and effectively as possible."

"All right," Aribeth said. "Why don't you tell me about this law or principle, then?"

"It's really quite simple," Fred said. "No one, regardless of circumstances, has the right to initiate force against another person, or to delegate or advocate the initiation of force against another person. Because no one has the right to initiate force, every person has the right to use whatever force they deem proper, appropriate, and wise, to defend or retaliate against someone who has initiated force against them, or has advocated or delegated the initiation of force against them. Of course, because they have the right to defend themselves, or to retaliate, they have the right to delegate that to someone else, if they so choose."

"How do you define initiation of force?" Aribeth asked.

"That's easy," Fred said. "In any situation where force is used, the first person to use it, or threaten it in some way, is the one who initiated force. Sometimes the initiation goes back a long way, such as when you spend thirty years hunting down the man who killed your father, but the person who acted against someone who did nothing to justify defensive or retaliatory action is the person who initiated force." He paused, then added, "That reminds me. Have you begun getting complaints about the Elk Tribe rising up and massacring farmers?"

"I –" Aribeth stopped and stared at Fred. "How did you know?"

"Commander Damas somehow managed to get a wagonload of Plague-infected blankets," Fred said, "which he promptly gave to the Elk Tribe as a gift from Neverwinter. The people of the Elk Tribe, of course, believe that it was done with the blessings of the people of Neverwinter. You see, that's the way their government works, so they believe that's the way your government works. So, they're killing farmers because they believe the farmers approved of the gift of blankets, the same way their own people would have, if their tribe had made a gift to your people. They also believe that everyone in Neverwinter, from Lord Nasher on down to the lowliest turnip farmer, approved of the blankets being infected with the Plague. Nevermind that they wouldn't do something so evil, the principle is that the chief would never do something like that without the approval of the entire tribe."

Aribeth stared in shock. How could someone rise high enough in the ranks to command a major military installation like Fort Ilkard, yet still have that kind of treachery in his blood? Before the Plague, she would not have believed it. After … even Lord Nasher had shown – no, if what they were saying was true, Lord Nasher hadn't truly changed. It was whatever possessed him that was to blame. But Commander Dumas was not possessed. She would have to send investigators. Who could she trust, though?

"Aribeth?" Fred's voice penetrated her thoughts. "Are you OK?"

"Fred?" Aribeth asked, her eyes boring into him, hoping to get some sort of truth from what she saw. "How do you know this?"


	5. Chapter 5

I really did not want to hear that question. I still hadn't figured out how to tell her. It didn't help that she was looking at me like everything depended on my answer to her question. I rubbed my eyes, pinched the bridge of my nose, and shifted so I was looking into her eyes. Damn, I could have easily got lost in them, especially with the way she was looking at me. I'm lousy at lies anyway, so I decided the best thing to do was to just tell her as much of the truth as I could explain.

"I've already mentioned we aren't from this world, right?" I started. "Well, Lada and I, anyway. Imoen's from Candlekeep, and Puff is from wherever her family's cloud is right now."

"Somewhere over northeastern Amn, I think," Puff offered, then gave me a shameless grin when I glanced her way. Imoen grabbed her arm and whispered to her. Puff looked unhappy, but sat down with Imoen.

"Yes, you did," Aribeth said, nodding as she spoke. "It had something to do with Lada wanting to meet Aarin Gend."

I was kind of hoping she'd forgotten, but of course not. Aribeth wouldn't forget something as potentially important as that. I just had to press on, regardless.

"Well," I said, "in the world we come from, the Plague, Morag, the Hero of Neverwinter, all of it, are part of a great, sprawling story. One thing that the author definitely got wrong is the identity of the Hero, though. In the story, the Hero was just that – a true hero. In fact, the Hero was the Champion of Kelemvor, and …." I realized that telling her that my character and hers had fallen in love by the end of the game might not be the best thing for the moment. Especially given her character's role in it.

"And?" Aribeth asked, giving me that look again.

I sighed. No way she was going to accept me holding back on her. "And he fell in love with Aribeth. And by the end of the story, she had grown to love him, as well. And their love was what saved Neverwinter from an invading army."

"… An invading army," Aribeth said, her eyes boring into me. "Whose army? When? How?"

"Morag's army," I said, took a deep breath, and looked into her eyes when I added, "Commanded by the Lady Aribeth de Tylmarande."

Aribeth sat back, a look of shock on her face, and let out a soft gasp. "But … how?"

"Morag," I said. "Remember how you felt before Lada did what she did? That was Morag, using her power to work at your mind, to build up a desire for vengeance in you. She wanted to make you desire vengeance so much that you would go to her servant, Maugrim, and willingly swear yourself into Morag's service, in order to get vengeance on the people _she_ had made you believe were to blame for Fenthick's death. And so, you would lead her armies in a war of vengeance against the people she had made you hate, so that she could draw power from their deaths, and then ultimately escape from her prison, powered by the energy of all the deaths you caused in your war of vengeance."

"And that was why the army was invading Neverwinter?" Aribeth asked. "Morag wanted me to slaughter the people of Neverwinter? Why?"

"Her prison is beneath Castle Never," I said. "She calls it the Source Stone. It is the energy that leaks from her prison that keeps the cold at bay. Every death that she causes in Neverwinter, whether directly or indirectly, feeds her power, like she's some sort of psychic vampire. The farther from Neverwinter, the less power she gets from the deaths." I paused. It was obvious, even to me, that Aribeth was in shock. "Remember, this was a story. And remember, in the story, Aribeth's love for the Hero of Neverwinter ultimately saved the city."

"How?" Aribeth asked. I wasn't quite sure how to answer her. I mean, it was complicated and confused, and I wasn't entirely sure myself.

"She surrendered to him," I said. "When Nasher – all right, _Lord_ Nasher – sent him to find and slay her, he appealed to her, as the man who loved her, and who believed in her love for him, despite all she had done. Somehow, that appeal was stronger than Morag's control, and she lay down her arms. Even in the story, she didn't understand why, but his love for her somehow managed to reach that part of her that still loved him. As much as she wanted the people of Neverwinter to suffer, she wanted his love more. She believed, just like the Elk Tribe believes, that Neverwinter – from Lord Nasher down to the lowliest sewage shoveler – needed to pay for what it had done to her love. But at the same time, she could not deny her love." I left it there, hoping Aribeth didn't push with her questions.

"He must have been very special," Aribeth said softly, "if he was able to gain her love, so soon after Fenthick's death."

"I think it was because he didn't try," I said. "All he cared about was her suffering, and what he could do to help her bear it. He never tried to gain her love, even though he was in love with her. Instead, he tried to be a rock that she could hold on to, even when all else around her was falling – or being torn – away."

Aribeth looked at me, and laughed. She reached out and rested a hand on my shoulder, lowered her head, and laughed, as if she were in on some great secret that I had no clue existed. Eventually, the laughter slowed, and she managed to get out, between gasps for air, "Never … tried. He … did … the one thing … the one thing …." She raised her head, looked me in the eyes, and asked, almost too softly for me to hear, "You wrote that story, didn't you?"

"I – um – I mean," I stammered.

She raised a hand and pressed a finger to my lips. It took all my willpower to not suck it in. She smiled, then leaned forward, and whispered, "I could tell, from the way you described it. So, am I what you expected?"

"No," I said, swallowing hard. "You're far, far more."

She looked at me intently for a few moments, then sighed softly and said, "At least you're not saying that because I'm an elf. You can't imagine how much of _that_ I've had to put up with." Apparently, she saw my reaction in my face, because she squeezed my shoulder and teased, "Down, Fred. You can't kill them all. And even if you could, I'd have to arrest you."

"Awww," I fired back, relieved that she hadn't rejected me, "can't I just kill a few of them? Just enough to get the message across?"

"Now, you're being silly," Aribeth said, giving me a smile that could light up a room. She pushed on my chest, just hard enough that I lost my balance and fell backward. She followed me down, and ended up leaning on one elbow beside me. "Don't ever try to play poker, OK? At least, not against me."

"Funny," I said, 'That's what Imoen and Puff keep saying, too. I wonder why?"

"You really don't know, do you?" Aribeth asked. "You've never seen how naked your emotions are, to anyone who's … I guess you'd have to say to anyone who's not locked in that room you described. That's how I knew you were telling me a story you had written, and how I've known, since the moment we met, that you were in love with me. Now, I understand why, but what I don't understand is where the story came from, and how it could be so close to the truth."

"I'm not sure myself," I said, focusing on her last concern, so I wouldn't be overwhelmed with worry over what else she might have gleaned from looking at me. "I didn't create the story originally. It was written by a company that makes games, and it was designed as a game, that anyone playing it could insert their own hero into the game. When I played it, my hero was the Champion of Kelemvor. When Lada played it, her hero was a bard, who fell in love with Aarin Gend. When Imoen played it …," I raised my voice and called to Imoen, "What was your NWN character?"

"What else?" Imoen laughed. "A thief and mage. And I wanted Aribeth, too." She paused for effect, then added, "And Aarin Gend."

"Of course," I chuckled. "Might as well play yourself, eh?"

Imoen grinned and stuck her tongue out at me, just an instant before Puff nailed her with a pillow. They went back to their battle, leaving me to face Aribeth again.

"So," Aribeth said slowly, "this … game … was a story about the Plague, and whoever played it could imagine himself or herself as the Hero of Neverwinter?"

"Exactly," I said. "What surprised me, was learning how much about this world the game got right, and the little details that it didn't quite get right."

"Such as?" Aribeth asked.

"Your picture," I said, "made you look as young as Puff, and with darker hair. Every single image of you had your hair more auburn than strawberry blonde, and most of them made you look less than 100. I had to keep my mind on the fact that no one would make someone that young their commander of the guard. Not if they were sane."

"No, that's true," Aribeth said, giving me another smile. "So this game told about our current troubles, did it? What more can you tell me?"

"There are four artifacts," I said, "from the time when Morag ruled. One of them is in Neverwinter Wood, in the realm of the Spirit of the Wood. Another one is in Klauth's hoard. A third one is in an ancient ruin near Fort Ilkard. And the fourth is in a snow globe that belongs to an archaeologist who collects magical artifacts. The four artifacts are the key to accessing the Source Stone, which is where we will have to go in order to face and defeat Morag. The sarrukh called them the Words of Power. Morag's servants are already searching for those artifacts. The only one they have any lead on at the moment is the one in Neverwinter Wood, so we should be able to get to the other artifacts before they do. If we're lucky, they might not even figure out how to get to the Spirit of the Wood before us. If we're lucky. And if we're lucky, we'll learn more from Haedraline than I ever did in the game."

"Haedraline?" Aribeth asked.

"She is a sarrukh," I said, "who was condemned to eternal life, serving and guarding the Words of Power. She hates Morag, and fears her, and would help anyone who showed that they had a chance of defeating her."

"So Haedraline is a potential ally," Aribeth said. "Good. Now, what about this Maugrim you mentioned before? Who is he?"

"He is Morag's high priest," I said. "Right now, he's using her servants to conquer the Host Tower in Luskan. He's the leader of her forces right now, but Morag has promised him that she will bring you under her control, and give you to him as a general to serve as commander of his armies." I deliberately didn't mention what I'd learned about the early drafts of the game.

"There's more," Aribeth said. "I can see it in your face."

"If you don't tell her, I will," Imoen said. She had that look she gets whenever she's about to do something she thinks she has to, even if she doesn't like it.

"All right," I sighed. "In an early version of the game, Morag gave you to Maugrim as one of his concubines. Luckily, that's not the version they chose to publish."

"Honestly," Aribeth said, her voice shaking only a little, but clearly upset by what I'd said, "if the torments I've been experiencing since Fenthick's death had not stopped, I can imagine that there would have come a time I would have done anything to make them stop. Even give myself up to Morag and Maugrim."

"That's why we came," I said. "When the news of the plague began to reach the outside world, I knew we had to come while there was still a chance to save you."

"And it's always been about me," Aribeth said softly. "Not about Neverwinter."

"Helping you, helps Neverwinter," I said. "But, yes, it's about you, not about them."

"And the rest of the world," Imoen said. "As much as you might protest, you know it's true."

"True," I said, giving her a sheepish look. "I may not particularly care about Neverwinter, outside of how it affects Aribeth, but we can't let Morag get out where she can harm the rest of the world."

"This is too much," Aribeth said, while giving me a confused look.

"Yes," I said, nodding slowly. "It probably is. Shouldn't you and Louis get back to your office, so your guards don't get the idea you've been kidnapped?"

"That … is probably a good idea," Aribeth said, rising to her feet.

I rose with her, and offered her my hand. She looked from my hand to my face, her eyes boring into me again, as if she were trying to understand me. I silently wished her luck. I didn't even fully understand myself. I doubted she'd have much better luck.

"Whatever you need, or want, just call," I said. "We'll find our way out of town in the morning, and meet you at the temple in Port Llast."

"I – thank you," Aribeth said, turning away to leave.

Louis caught my eye as he joined her, and gave me a quick nod. That was a relief. He, at least, didn't object to how I was affecting her. I knew I was going to have a lot to deal with in my prayers.


	6. Chapter 6

"Whatever you need, or want, just call," Fred said. "We'll find our way out of town in the morning, and meet you at the temple in Port Llast."

"I – thank you," Aribeth said, turning away to leave. His offer was so open, so unhesitating, it made her uneasy. He was being just the way he had described his imaginary self: offering himself to her, whatever she needed, without asking anything for himself. Even though it was open between them, that he was in love with her, he was making no attempt to act on it. Why? And why her? She was just an ordinary paladin. It's not as if she was special in any way. But _he_ thought she was. And he had made it clear that serving her was more important to him than saving Neverwinter. He had even implied that serving her was as important to him as saving the rest of the world. And his wives – those who were awake, at least – had not objected in the slightest. Imoen had even declared that she was attracted to her, too. She was going to have to spend a lot of time on her knees before she understood this, as complicated and confusing as it was.

"Yo, boss," Louis hissed, stopping Aribeth just as she was about to walk into the door. She shot him a grateful smile, and opened the door, just in time to step into the midst of her other officers, gathered around the outer side of the door.

"Are you all right, My Lady?" Gaston asked, a faint hint of worry tinging his voice. Aribeth shot him a quick smile, then glanced back toward Fred.

"I'm all right, Gaston," Aribeth said. "I just have to go to my room to pray. If there is anything the MacManuses need, make sure they have it, all right? And be sure to go through who we're taking with us to Port Llast. I want only those guards we can absolutely trust and rely on. I have a feeling that Lord Nasher and Penelope have plans that don't involve us, and I want to be sure that we're ready to counter them."

"Of course, My Lady," Gaston said. "And the dagger?"

Aribeth looked back into the entry hall. Fred was wearing purple gloves, and using a pair of tongs to pick up the dagger and drop it into what looked like an envelope made of silver dragon scales. Imoen was holding what looked like a steel can, like the kind Aribeth had seen cooks use to store used grease. Puff had transformed into her natural form, and was looming protectively over both.

"I think we can safely say the dagger has been dealt with," Aribeth said, as Fred dropped the dagger-containing envelope into the can. "But now we know two things we didn't know before. First, that Penelope thinks she can move against us without reprisal, and second, that we need to be a lot more careful about how we handle unknown objects."

"That we do," Philippe said. "When the dagger possessed Louis, it was a terrifying sight. How did the drag – I mean, Puff – know your office well enough to teleport so readily into it?"

"She spent over an hour in it," Jean Luc said. "That was more than enough time for one of her kind to memorize every detail of the place, and its contents."

"And we should be grateful she did," Gaston said. "It is obvious that we have Louis back with us, thanks to her."

"We do," Aribeth said. "I'll tell you all about it, once we're back in my office."

Morning prayers brought Aribeth no more understanding than she had had after discussing events with her men. Tyr's only response to her prayers for enlightenment was to give her a strong impression that she should both listen to the MacManuses and follow her heart. The problem was, her heart was so confused right now, she didn't know what to do. At least she could listen to –

"Sorry about that," Fred said, as he pushed himself to a sitting position. The impact of their collision had knocked both of them to the floor, and Fred was looking so apologetic that Aribeth couldn't help but break into laughter.

"Was it something I said?" Fred asked, putting on an expression of innocent confusion. Aribeth leaned against him, still laughing, and realized that she wasn't confused any more. She liked being where she was, and wanted to stay there.

"Do you have to leave this morning?" Aribeth asked, when her laughter had run its course.

"I'm afraid so," Fred said. "The longer we're here, the greater the risk that Penelope will find out. Not only that, it'll be easier for Lada to make any adjustments she needs to your simulacrum, once we're in Port Llast and she's not constantly shielding against Morag. And, we have to talk with Neurik and make sure he's ready to play his part in this drama."

"It sounds as if you've been planning this for a while," Aribeth said, as she rested her head on his shoulder. When his arm slipped around her, she shivered for a moment, then leaned into his embrace.

"The dealing with Morag part, yes," Fred said. "Discovering that Penelope is alive and that she's here means that we're going to have to adjust our plans some to accommodate her, but we should still be able to pull it off."

"Good," Aribeth said. "My people have been working in a fog, reacting to what pops up when it happens, but we just haven't had the information we've needed to make concrete plans."

"Do you trust Aarin Gend?" Fred asked.

"As much as I trust anyone outside my inner circle," Aribeth said. "He'll do whatever he has to, to protect Neverwinter. So, whatever you have planned, you're going to have to convince him that working within your plan is in Neverwinter's interest."

"Joy," Fred muttered. He let out a heavy sigh, then turned to look into Aribeth's eyes. From this distance, she could see every detail of his eyes, and found herself warming in his gaze. "Oh well, we'll – "

Aribeth shut him up with a firm kiss. He stiffened for a moment, surprised, then his embrace strengthened, crushing her to his chest as he enthusiastically responded to her kiss.

When they came up for air, Aribeth looked into Fred's eyes and said, "I've made my decision. As soon as this crisis is over, I will marry you."

Fred gently caressed Aribeth's cheek, lightly enough that when his fingers brushed over her ear, she didn't realize it until the spike of pleasure shot through her. She let out a soft whimper and leaned into his hand, while his fingers continued to stroke her ear.

"You realize," Fred said, his lips just inches from her ear, and his voice so soft she had to concentrate to hear it, "you've given me all the incentive I need to use every resource I have to resolve this crisis as quickly as I possibly can." He gently nipped the tip of her ear, then whispered, "I love you, Aribeth. For you, I will make it happen."

"And I love you," Aribeth whispered. "I wish I could leave with you this morning."

"So do I," Fred replied, looking into Aribeth's eyes. She bit her lip, as she felt the depth of his love for her. As much as she had loved Fenthick, she had never felt this depth of feeling from him. It was simultaneously exhilarating and frightening, and she did not want to let it go. "Until then, we'll have to be satisfied with this." He kissed her, and as her lips parted against his, she felt that he was putting every part of himself into that kiss, as if he wanted her to have enough of him with her to keep her heart warm until they met again.

"Why are you carrying a shovel?" Aribeth asked, when Gaston walked into her office.

"Fred gave it to me," Gaston said. He had a thoughtful expression on his face – as close to confusion as Aribeth usually saw from him.

"Fred gave you a shovel?" Aribeth asked. Her heart had skipped a beat when Gaston mentioned Fred's name, but the shovel thing didn't make sense.

"Yes," Gaston said. "When I found him, he was giving Lada some pipeweed. It was … strange. When he saw me, he put down the pipeweed, picked up the shovel, and gave it to me, while saying, 'This is so you can beat me to death if I ever break her heart.' Then he went back to parceling out the pipeweed, as if what he had said and done were perfectly normal. Lada broke into giggles, then said, "Poor Xander. Self-appointed big brother for too long.' Then she looked at Fred and said, 'Donuts!'"

"Donuts?" Aribeth asked

"Donuts," Gaston said. "Then Fred said, 'Oh good. She's hungry. That's a good sign.' And Lada said, 'Beware of girls afraid of bunnies.'"

"Sounds to me like she's one of those people who has a strong reaction to pipeweed," Louis said. "I hope he keeps a good watch on her while she's like that."

"He will," Aribeth said, smiling. Then she gave Gaston a hug and said, "I couldn't ask for a better big brother, you know."

Gaston stiffened in the hug, and his cheeks gained a faint pink tinge. "I am merely doing my duty, My Lady."

"Mmm-hmm," Aribeth said, smiling, then asked, "Philippe, do you have that list of guards I asked for last night?"

"I do," Philippe said. "If we stick to those who are absolutely reliable, we have barely enough to make a company."

"We have that many?" Aribeth asked. "That's more than I expected. Good. Those are the men we're taking to Port Llast. Make sure they're ready to march by tonight. We leave in the morning."

"So soon?" Gaston asked. "Will there be trouble with Lord Nasher?"

"I doubt it," Aribeth said. "He'll expect me to be so overcome with grief that I'll want to escape the city, and while he didn't give me a deadline, he did strongly hint that the sooner I was in Port Llast, the happier he would be."

"Aren't you?" Jean Luc asked.

"I am grieving," Aribeth said. "And I will probably be grieving for some time to come. But the earth-shattering grief that I was suffering until yesterday? Well, that was obviously Morag's work."

"That makes sense," Jean Luc said slowly. "If she kept you blinded by your grief, you would be easier prey for anything else she tried. You'd certainly be easier for her to manipulate into doing something stupid, like that vengeance crusade you told us about last night."

"Yes," Aribeth said, while making a note on the supply list Louis had handed her. When she handed it back to him, he glanced at the note, then grinned at her and nodded, before vanishing out the door with the list. "I may be a paladin, but I'm a woman, too, and there is no doubt in my mind that Morag's manipulation was intended to appeal to the grieving woman in me, while at the same time convincing the paladin in me that by questioning the justice of Fenthick's death, I had offended Tyr so greatly that I was outside his grace and protection. I'm sure that the combination would have had devastating consequences."

Gaston put his shovel in a corner of the office, then returned to stand in his place at Aribeth's side. "Do you have any particular special preparations you wish us to make, My Lady?"

"Yes," Aribeth said, a smile on her face as she considered the … interesting … day Penelope was about to have. She picked up a list from her desk and handed it to Gaston. "Louis made this list for me last night. It is a list of every one of Penelope's contacts in Neverwinter, and any offense on the books that they are suspected of. I want every one on this list brought in for questioning. Use Lord Nasher's men as much as possible. When you can't use them, use anyone who's not on our Port Llast roster."

"Do we want to send any special message while questioning them?" Philippe asked, while Gaston studied the list.

"We do," Aribeth said. "We want to send the message that they were brought in because of their association with Penelope, and that as long as they are associated with Penelope, they will be at the top of every suspect list."

"Won't that draw attention to us?" Philippe asked.

"It will," Aribeth said. "I'm sorry, gentlemen, but it's necessary. We need to make it unmistakably clear that any attempt to assassinate an officer of the guard, no matter who is involved in the assassination, will be met with this level of response. While we can't conclusively pin yesterday's attempt on Penelope, the evidence is strong enough that we can round up every person known to have associated with her, and make sure they know that they've been targeted because of their association, and because she is suspected of having hired one of them to assassinate an officer of the guard. Once they're sufficiently terrified, let them go. They'll make Penelope's life most interesting, for as long as she remains in Neverwinter."

"What will you be doing?" Gaston asked.

Aribeth took a deep breath, gathered herself up, and said, "I will be riding to Port Llast."

"You'll be riding to – are you sure that's a good idea?" Gaston asked.

"Louis will be riding with me," Aribeth said. "It's only a day's ride, after all, and I'll need the extra time to rent a house before the mercenaries – and Penelope – arrive."

"Rent a house?" Gaston asked. Aribeth smiled at Gaston's increasing expression of discomfort. He obviously did not like the idea of her taking lodging away from the barracks.

"Yes," Aribeth said. "Since Penelope doesn't know if she succeeded in having me killed, it's in our best interest to keep her uncertain until I can decide how to proceed. Since Port Llast has so many unoccupied structures, it should be fairly easy to arrange with Kendrack to rent one for as long as we need it. In fact, it should be fairly easy to find an unoccupied farm, so that all of you can be nearby in case I need your advice."

"In case …," Gaston started, trailed off, and studied Aribeth intently. She smiled, pleased at having caught him off-balance.

"You didn't think I was going to leave you here, did you?" she asked, trying on Fred's expression of innocence for size. "The four of you are my council. Trying to manage this operation without you would be like cutting off my right arm."

"Halt!" a guardsman in the uniform of Elturel barked, while two others aimed crossbows at Aribeth and Louis from their perches atop firing platforms flanking the High Road Gate to Port Llast. "Identify yourselves!"

"The Lady Aribeth de Tylmarande," Aribeth said, as she lowered her hood and drew her medallion of rank from under her cloak. "Take me to Kendrack."

The guardsman peered at the medallion, then raised a hand. The crossbowmen lowered their weapons, while the guardsman said, "I'll send for a runner, milady Circumstances as they are, I cannot leave my post, even to escort you to Kendrack."

Aribeth waited for the runner to depart, then asked, "What are the circumstances?"

"Luskan has sealed the city, and withdrawn all its forces," the guardsman said. "They aren't sending out patrols, either on land or on sea, and anyone attempting to enter the city is shot as soon as they get near the city walls. No one knows what they are planning, so we have doubled all our own patrols, and are increasing security on the gates, in case any Luskan agents attempt to slip in under the cover of their apparent withdrawal."

"I see," Aribeth said. "Did a group arrive through this gate this afternoon?"

"No, milady," the guardsman said. "You and your companion are the first to arrive by way of the High Road all day." He studied Aribeth a moment, then asked, "Were you planning to meet someone?"

"No," Aribeth said, while thoughtfully scanning the undergrowth along the road, opposite the gate. "No, I wasn't planning to meet anyone. I just thought maybe …," she shook her head and focused her attention on the guardsman. "No. I should go speak with Kendrack."

"Yes, milady," the guardsman said. "Best you should move on into the city, before the moon rises."

"Before the moon rises?" Aribeth asked.

"Before the Black Wolf comes," the guardsman said, shuddering. "It would be best if we were inside the gates, and the gates locked, before the moon rises."

"You make this Black Wolf sound like a werewolf," Aribeth said. All three of the guardsmen gripped their weapons, as if they were talismans, and began muttering prayers of protection. " … Right. I'll just ride on in, then."

The guardsman nodded and stepped to one side of the road, gesturing Aribeth in. As soon as Louis had entered the village, the guardsman slammed the gate shut and dropped its bar into place.

"Looks like you nailed it, boss," Louis hissed, pulling up beside Aribeth. "I'll go rattle cages, eh?"

"It's what you do best," Aribeth said, smiling. "Go on, then. I'll most likely be at Kendrack's house when you're ready to report."

"And if you're not there," Louis said, "he'll know where to find you, right?"

"Exactly," Aribeth said. She stopped her horse and sat, waiting, when she saw a runner approaching from the direction of the harbor. She watched Louis ride toward the warehouses, then focused her attention on the approaching runner.

"Lady Aribeth?" The runner called as he stopped beside her and saluted. "Kendrack requests the pleasure of your company at dinner."

"Of course," Aribeth said, her voice revealing none of the resignation she felt as she contemplated yet another dinner with yet another officer of the Lords' Alliance. At least when she and Fenthick were lovers, she had been spared this, from all except the most crass of them. A worrisome thought intruded – one that made her glad the runner's back was to her as she considered it. How much of her relationship with Fenthick had been because they were both elves, in positions of authority, and trying to avoid unwanted suitors? She remembered, at one of their first meetings, how he had complained of the women who pursued him, none of whom – in his opinion – saw him as a person, but instead saw him as a priest and an elf, and thus a suitable, if not desirable, catch. It had been that litany which had first caught her attention, Aribeth had to admit. He had been echoing the complaint she had of the many men who had pursued her, treating her not as a person, but as a female elf, who had somehow managed to achieve a position high enough to make her a suitable mate for men of their stature. She and Fenthick had found themselves spending more and more time together, until those around them had assumed they were lovers. When they finally heard they were known to be lovers, Aribeth recalled that they had both felt a kind of relief at the news, because it would free them from the constant pursuit of others. As she thought about it, Aribeth realized that she had never felt any kind of passion for Fenthick. He had, instead, been comfortable, safe, like an old sweater that had been knitted by her mother – she stopped that train of thought as firmly as she could.

"Here we are, Lady Aribeth," the runner said, stopping in front of a small, two-story stone house that was distinguishable from the others around it only by the two soldiers standing guard on either side of the door. The runner saluted the guards and announced, "The Lady Aribeth de Tylmarande, per Kendrack's request."

The soldiers returned the salute, then turned to Aribeth and saluted her. The one on her left turned to open the door, while the one on her right asked the runner, "Did you warn her about Shaldrissa?"

"Eh – no," the runner said. "Is she having one of her days?"

"When is she not?" the soldier said. He turned to Aribeth and explained, "Shaldrissa is Captain Dothwintyl's daughter. Her mother died in childbirth, and he raised her on his own, until the day he died."

"He also never disciplined her," the runner said. "Good luck."

"But, _Kendrack!_" an immature feminine voice came through the door. "You promised that I could go to Neverwinter just as soon as the crisis was over! Well, it's over, isn't it? So why won't you let me go?"

"Lady Aribeth has come to Port Llast," a mature male voice replied. "If she is here, that means that there is more to the crisis than we know, and whatever that more is, it is centered on Port Llast. Therefore, you can not go to Neverwinter just now."

Aribeth groaned. She knew he had received a summary report of what actions were going to be taking place in Port Llast, since she had received his sealed receipt herself. His deflection of Shaldrissa was an excellent cover, but it was already apparent that she was going to be the source of many headaches. She took a deep breath and followed the runner into the house.

"Sir," the runner said, "Lady Aribeth has arrived."

"Good," a dark-haired human girl, who looked about Lada's age, but sounded younger than Puff, said. "_You_ can tell him that it's safe to go to Neverwinter, right?"

"Shaldrissa," a middle-aged human man said, "I can not afford to spare an escort for you. When things are more certain, I'll be happy to let you go to Neverwinter."

"Daddy would have let me go," the girl humphed.

"Perhaps so," the man said, "but my first concern is the safety of the village."

The girl turned up her nose and flounced off, her attitude clearly one of disdain for the older man.

"My apologies," the man said. "I'm afraid Shaldrissa has been as much a headache as our concerns about Luskan and the Plague. I am Kendrack. How can I help you?"

"First," Aribeth said, "I need to arrange for a house – preferably a farm, near the edge of town – for my officers and I to use, away from the barracks."

"Inside the gates, or outside?" Kendrack asked.

"Outside," Aribeth said, "with easy access to the Temple."

"There is a farm near the Temple Cave," Kendrack said, "that was used by the priests during the Time of Troubles. They still maintain it, but it's unoccupied."

"I should talk with Prior Neurik about it, then?" Aribeth asked.

"Yes," Kendrack said. "Anything else?"

"Yes," Aribeth said. "I need confidentiality. Unless someone directly asks you about me, or my men, I need you and your men to refrain from mentioning us." When Kendrack raised an eyebrow, Aribeth added, "I was the target of an assassination attempt yesterday. The person who hired the assassin will be coming to Port Llast with the mercenaries Lord Nasher is sending. She does not yet know that I was not killed. I want to keep it that way for as long as possible, in hopes that she will publicly incriminate herself. Right now, the only evidence I have of her guilt is the testimony of the man she hired, and he is dead."

"I see," Kendrack said, frowning. "So, you are putting Port Llast at risk, in hopes of luring this woman into exposing herself?"

"Assuming Aarin Gend is here, Port Llast will not be at risk," Aribeth said. "He and I have worked together in the past, and he is far more skilled in these kinds of things than I am." She laughed softly. "I am simple and straightforward. I see evil, and I smite it. Aarin is skilled in the ways of the shadows, and knows how to bring to light those things that do not wish to be exposed. I am counting on his expertise to do just that, so that she cannot rely on her wiles to avoid justice."

"That is good to know, my friend," a voice said from the shadows. Aribeth understood instantly why Lada wanted to meet him. While he may not have the most handsome of faces, Aarin Gend had a voice that could melt a woman's heart, even if doing nothing more than reading a shopping list. She turned toward the voice and smiled, extending her hands in greeting. Aarin stepped out of the shadows, took her hands, and shook them, while returning her smile. "When I heard that you were here, nearly a full tenday before you were expected, I wondered why you would do something so … precipitous."

"I think the three of us need to sit and discuss current events," Kendrack said, gesturing toward his dining area. "And, since I did promise dinner, it would be rude to not fulfill that promise."


	7. Chapter 7

"Duck!" Lada yelled.

Fred dropped to his hands, just in time to avoid a flying werewolf. Silk wrapped around the werewolf from two directions: webbing, from Imoen, and gaily-colored scarves, from Puff, completely binding it and bringing it to a crash landing at Lada's feet. It looked up and whined at her, as she knelt, touched the base of its skull, and gently said, "Sorry about this. It may hurt a bit."

"That's why you never turn your back on an unexplored cave," Puff said, as she helped Fred to his feet.

"Is it always like this with you?" Aribeth asked Lada, while watching Puff fuss over Fred, and Imoen search the cave for traps.

"No," Lada said. "Fred isn't always a ditz." She ran her hands over the werewolf's head, and called out, "Don't forget to find his journal!"

"The journal," the werewolf groaned, "is in the chest by the fire pit. Why didn't you just kill me? I know what I've become, and I'd rather die than endanger anyone else with my curse."

"Prior – " Aribeth started.

"Father – " Lada started.

"Neurik – " Fred started.

Fred and Aribeth looked at each other, while Lada giggled.

"Father Neurik gave us a healing charm for you," Lada said. "We've already cured the boys you bit, and we have one charm left for you, if you're serious about ending your curse."

"But, once the curse takes hold," the werewolf protested, "it takes a miracle to break it!"

Fred began to chuckle.

"Be nice!" Aribeth, Lada, and Puff chided in unison.

"Sir Karathis?" Aribeth asked.

"Yes," the werewolf whispered.

"Even if you don't trust us," Aribeth said, "do you trust Prior Neurik?"

"Absolutely!" the werewolf said.

"Well," Aribeth said, "he made this charm, and he sent us to find you, so we could offer it to you as an alternative to death."

"Prior Neurik sent you?" the werewolf asked.

"He did," Aribeth said.

"He made the charm?" the werewolf asked.

"He did," Aribeth said.

"What must I do?" the werewolf asked.

"Just allow Lada to put it on you," Aribeth said.

"Please," the werewolf begged. "Put it on me."

Fred placed the charm, a silver pendant in the shape of Tyr's holy symbol, into Lada's hand. Lada slipped the pendant over the werewolf's head, then sat back as he shrank, losing his fur-covered bulk for the form of a strong, scarred, and unclothed man, who glanced around, realized his predicament, and dove into the pool in the middle of the cave.

"Err …," Sir Karathis said, looking from Lada, to Aribeth, to Puff, to Imoen, "Could you, perhaps, maybe, leave the cave for a bit?"

"Of course," Fred said, gently poking Puff in the side. He whispered to Puff, "Let the poor man be, sweetheart. He's had enough shocks for one day, don't you think? Besides, if he's a knight, he probably has some silly rules that would make you unhappy."

Imoen stopped on the path, half-way across the pool, held a book so it could be easily seen from the water, and asked, "Is this the right journal?"

Lada took Aribeth's hand, rose to her feet, and silently led the way out of the cave. Fred and Puff followed Lada and Aribeth.

"Err, yes, that looks right, milady," Sir Karathis said, while shifting position in the pool to keep as many rocks between him and Imoen as possible.

"Thank you," Imoen said, then smiled, nodded, and followed the others out of the cave.

"All right, then," Imoen said, looking up from the journal. Aribeth, Lada, Fred, and Puff were sitting in a semicircle in front of her, all looking up at her where she sat on a convenient boulder. "This confirms that Alhelor is the Black Wolf, and that he deliberately lured Sir Karathis here to curse him with lycanthropy."

"That's what he said," Sir Karathis said, walking out of the cave in a suit of hastily-repaired armor. "While he was gloating over my predicament, he told me that he had deliberately spread rumors, where he knew I would learn of them, to lure me here, so that he could infect me with his curse. That the boys were infected as well just added to his enjoyment of my torment."

"What do you intend to do now?" Aribeth asked.

"Go as far away from here as possible," Sir Karathis said. "I failed in my mission, and was personally responsible for cursing innocent boys. What I deserve is no less than exile."

"Perhaps," Aribeth said, "but I believe you should discuss that with Prior Neurik, first. After all, Tyr may have his own ideas about how you can best atone for your failure."

"I …," Sir Karathis started, then bowed his head. "You are, of course, correct, milady. I will go speak with Prior Neurik immediately."

"If you don't object to traveling with company," Puff suggested, "you could come with us. We need to visit the temple anyway."

"No," Sir Karathis said, "No, I don't mind. I think I might prefer the company."

"Oh, good," Puff said. She bounded to her feet, and bounced toward the nearby cliff. While Sir Karathis looked on with an anxious expression, she turned and smiled at him, then stretched, like some great cat. In mid-stretch, her body began to flow, swell, and expand, and within a few moments, she had transformed from her perky, bouncy human form, to her natural silver dragon form. _"All right, everyone. Climb aboard. We can be in Port Llast in just a few minutes."_

Sir Karathis stared at Puff for nearly a full minute, then bowed deeply. "I – I apologize for my lack of decorum, your ladyship."

Fred snorted, and Puff twisted her head around to ruffle his hair with her breath. Meanwhile, Aribeth hid a smile behind her hand, as she walked up behind Sir Karathis and gently pushed him toward Puff. Imoen clambered up Puff's near leg and reached down for Lada's hand. Once Lada was seated astride Puff's shoulders, ahead of her wings, Imoen sat in front of her.

"If Puff believes she can carry us all, I have faith in her," Aribeth said softly to Sir Karathis. "Go ahead. It's as safe as anything you could conceive of at the moment."

Sir Karathis hesitated another moment, then slowly climbed onto Puff's back, in front of Fred, and clutched at her spinal ridge with both hands when she took off, just instants after Aribeth had settled into place. They soared over the wood, and landed in Ballard's clearing, just inside the walls of Port Llast. Once everyone had dismounted, Puff returned to her human form and smiled at Sir Karathis.

"It's all right," Puff said. "I'm not some silly gold. As long as you're not rude, I _prefer_ a lack of decorum. Now, let's go see what Neurik has to say, shall we?"

Aribeth chuckled. Poor Sir Karathis was obviously not sure what to make of Puff. Well, he was a knight, so he would just have to let his training carry him through. Once her hood was in place, hiding her face, Aribeth led the way out of Ballard's clearing. The way to the temple was quiet, this time of evening, and they arrived at the portal without any trouble. Aribeth led the way through, and waited for the rest to catch up.

"Sir Karathis!" Neurik said, with obvious happiness in his voice. "You're back with us!"

"I am, your grace," Sir Karathis said, while his gaze traveled from Puff to Imoen, then Lada, then Aribeth, then Fred, "thanks to these good people. They saved me."

"Wonderful, wonderful," Neurik said, stepping forward and reaching up to clap Sir Karathis on the back. "So, what can you tell us about the Black Wolf?"

"His name is Alhelor," Sir Karathis said, clenching his fists with obviously suppressed rage.

"Alhelor?" Neurik asked, a look of shock on his face. "The man selling werewolf-hunting gear?"

"The same," Sir Karathis said. "He does it to weed out any competition. And to weed out werewolf hunters."

"I see," Neurik said. "In that case, he must be stopped. Bring back one of his teeth, and I'll make a protective charm from it."

"Good," Fred said, then walked back through the portal.

"What's going on with Fred?" Aribeth asked. "He's been cranky, irritable, and distracted all day."

"Uh-oh," Imoen said. "Lada, do you remember the last time we were zombie hunting?"

"Umm …," Lada said, "Just before last Maiming?"

"That's almost a month ago," Neurik said.

Lada smacked herself in the forehead. "Next stop is not Alhelor's house. Next stop is the graveyard by Luskan." _"Fred, get your ass back here. Now!"_ "I'm sorry. I'm not thinking clearly. The pipeweed helps, but I'm not as functional as I should be."

"Morag?" Puff asked.

"Yes," Lada said, "but don't worry. I think I'm still under the radar."

"Radar?" Puff asked.

"It's really cool," Imoen said. "It's kind of like sonar, except it's telepathic, instead of sound."

"Ooh," Puff said, looking impressed. "So it's kind of like how Mom and Dad always know exactly where I am, even when I'm half-way around the world?"

"No," Lada said, laughing. "I think that's special parent magic."

Fred appeared in the portal and grumbled, "What?"

"Honey, we need to go to the graveyard by Luskan," Lada said. "Now."

"Graveyard?" Fred asked, raising an eyebrow. "Infested?"

"Mm-hmm," Lada said. "And we'll sit back and eat popcorn while you play. I promise. Unless you tell us to help. Well, cookies, but you get the idea."

Fred looked from Lada to Imoen, then Puff, then Aribeth, then back to Lada, while his foot tapped out an impatient beat. Suddenly, he shot forward, scooped up Lada, and hugged her until she coughed.

Imoen tapped Fred on the shoulder and whispered, "I think she works better if she can breathe."

Fred blushed and, looking sheepish, put Lada back on her feet.

"Aribeth," Lada asked, once she had caught her breath, "will you remind us to go zombie hunting in two tendays?"

"Zombie hunting?" Aribeth asked. "Why?"

"My sense of time is frakked from being with Fred for so long, and …," Lada said, "oh! Why zombie hunting? Because he gets like this if he hasn't killed any undead in … well, anywhere from two to three tendays, depending on what it was he killed last. Last time we killed a lich, so it lasted longer than usual."

"Right," Neurik said. "Champion of Kelemvor. I should have remembered that."

Fred, meanwhile, was shifting from one foot to the other, remarkably like the way Aribeth remembered Puff doing when she was waiting in her office.

"OK," Lada said. "I'll escort Fred. The rest of you, get snacks and meet us there."

"But," Puff said, "If you walk, it'll take until morning to get there. Why not just go to the farm, and we can fly from there?"

"Good idea," Aribeth said. "But why the snacks?"

"She has the munchies," Imoen said. "Take advantage of it."

"Anyway," Lada said, "It gives us something to do while trying not to help."

"But," Imoen said, "Half the fun is making sarcastic comments."

Fred grumbled and slipped out the temple door, into the cave. Lada let out a frustrated sigh and followed him.

"We'd better hurry to the tavern and get some snacks," Imoen said, "before Fred _does_ try to walk to the graveyard."

"He's more likely to summon Binky," Puff said, "but you're right, we'd better hurry."

"Binky?" Aribeth asked, as she followed Puff and Imoen through the portal.

"His horse," Imoen said. "It's another joke from his world."

Once inside the Jack and Saber, Imoen went straight to someone seated at a table in the darkest corner of the place. Meanwhile, Puff went to the bar and talked with the bartender, while Aribeth stood just inside the door and scanned the taproom. It was obviously a place that had seen better days, as had its patrons, but it suited Port Llast, the way a finer establishment would not have.

Puff returned from the bar, carrying a heavily-laden sack, at about the same time as Imoen, carrying a sack of her own. Aribeth gave Imoen a questioning look, which she responded to with a secretive smile, as she led the way outside.

Once outside, Imoen turned to Aribeth and Puff and quietly asked, "Want to take care of that werewolf problem before we catch up with Fred and Lada?"

"It would be a good idea," Aribeth said.

"As long as we don't ruin dinner," Puff said, holding up her sack.

"No problem," Imoen said, grinning. "I picked up a few items that will make it a quick fight, if we get to his house before he does."

"And you found out where his house is?" Aribeth asked, smiling.

"I did," Imoen said. "This way."

Alhelor's house stank of death and gore, so strongly that Aribeth wondered how it could have gone without being discovered. Imoen picked the lock on the door, while Aribeth and Puff kept watch. Once the door was unlocked, Imoen slipped inside and began setting traps, after warning Aribeth and Puff to stay outside. She was finished within a few minutes, then relocked the door and waved them around the sides of the house, just moments before Alhelor arrived. It was obvious he had made it into the house when the sounds of pained roaring reached Aribeth's ears.

Aribeth stood in front of the door, her swords in hand, and waited. More pained roaring came from the house, then silence. Aribeth noticed that Imoen and Puff had taken up flanking positions, where they wouldn't be immediately visible from the doorway, just before the door burst open, spraying shards of wood everywhere, as the werewolf charged through it. His fur was smoking, and he had blisters and burns in irregular patches all over his body, including one on his face, where his eyes should have been. He charged straight at Aribeth, as if he didn't see her, and when she raised her swords in an "X", he ran directly into them, slicing his head off as neatly as if they had been shears.

"Damn," Imoen said. "Silver in the acid really _did_ make it better."

Puff picked up the head and looked at it thoughtfully. "I'd heard they were allergic to silver, but this looks like it was really painful."

"Just remember all the pain he caused, hon," Aribeth said. "Let's take the head back to Prior Neurik, so he can dispose of it."

"Good idea," Puff said, as she offered the head to Aribeth.

Aribeth wiped her swords, then sheathed them, before she took the head. Puff picked up the bag she had carried from the tavern, while Imoen vanished into the house for a minute. When she returned, she nodded to Aribeth and Puff, and started toward the temple.

They found Fred and Lada, walking along the High Road, holding hands. Puff landed on the road in front of them, and lowered her head to look Fred in the eyes.

"You didn't wait for us," Puff humphed, her breath ruffling Fred's hair. "Come on, then, climb aboard so we can go kill those undead."

"How does she manage to sound pouty, even in dragon form?" Aribeth asked. The sound of Lada, giggling, came to her mind.

"She's 96," Imoen said, giving Aribeth a wink and a smile.

"And she's away from home?" Aribeth asked, surprised.

"Hey!" Puff complained. "Mom and Dad agreed I'm old enough."

"Yeah," Imoen teased. "Because they caught you on top of Fred, and realized they couldn't stop you."

"You're so mean to me!" Puff pouted.

Imoen hugged Puff's neck and gently patted the back of her head. "Silly Puff. We love you."

"Oh," Puff sniffed. "That's better."

Lada looked as if she were about to bite through her lip, and her face, as far down as the collar of her gi, was as red as Aribeth's hair. Fred gently pushed her toward Aribeth, who offered a hand for Lada to grip as she climbed aboard Puff and sat between Aribeth and Imoen. Once she was in place, Fred climbed up, and Puff took off.

Aribeth could feel Lada shaking, and whispered into her ear, "What is it, Lada?"

The answer from Lada was a jumble of thoughts, ranging from "I usually try to become friends with people first," to "Why do I keep sleeping with people young enough to be my daughter?"

"Young enough to be your daughter?" Aribeth asked, confused. Lada looked as if she couldn't be more than sixteen. For that matter, so did Fred.

"I'm 35," Lada thought. "Fred's 50. Although, I should look 19. Not that mirrors do me any good now."

"Trust me," Aribeth said, "You both look 16. You don't _act_ it, but you look it."

"Weird," Lada thought. "I wonder why Ilmater did that. Not that I'll complain about not actively being in the process of dying any more."

"Look!" Puff announced, as she banked and circled. "Graveyard! And those don't look like mourners."

Fred let out a soft growl, and Puff immediately dropped toward the ground, landing just outside the cemetery gates, near a small house. Fred was off her back and charging the gates before the dust had settled.

"Fred!" Lada called, "Don't you need the key?"

Before Fred reached the gates, the zombies on the other side had pulled them down. He dove into the mob without hesitation, his sword flashing in the moonlight as it sliced through undead bodies.

"I guess not," Lada muttered.

"Oh, he's going to be disappointed," a man's voice said from the door of the house. "The Arcane Brother's tomb is locked."

Aribeth looked, at the little man standing in the door of the house. He was disturbing – something about him made her uncomfortable, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

"And you have the key, I take it?" Imoen asked.

"I do, I do," the man said, bobbing his head like a doll. "I could … sell it to you, for the right price."

"And what might be the right price?" Imoen asked, as a ball of fire appeared, balanced on her palm. In the light of the fire, Aribeth could see the man swallow and look around nervously.

"Umm …," the man stammered, "F-fifty gold?"

"I'm glad we came to an agreement," Imoen said, taking five platinum coins from her pouch and dropping them in the man's hand. She held out her hand, and he dropped a key in it, while grumbling under his breath.

Imoen walked past Fred and the zombies, toward a large crypt in the middle of the graveyard. Aribeth trotted to catch up to her.

"What about Fred?" Aribeth asked.

"Oh, he'll let us know if he wants any help," Imoen said. She fit the key to the lock, started to turn it, then opened another of her pouches, took out a small flask of oil, and squirted some into the keyhole. This time, when she turned the key, it moved easily, and the door swung open. "Go ahead and let Puff and Lada know we're ready for them?"

Aribeth turned and looked toward the gates, where Puff was talking to Lada, waving her arms excitedly as she did so. Aribeth raised her hand and waved in that direction. Puff took Lada's arm and tugged, then started toward Aribeth, with Lada following behind.

The air that came from the crypt stank like the piles of Plague dead in Neverwinter had. Aribeth moved so she wasn't directly in front of the door. Imoen joined her. When Puff and Lada arrived, the four stood, waiting for Fred to finish slicing up zombies. Suddenly, Lada let out a sharp yell and jumped over Aribeth. By the time Aribeth had turned, Lada was standing atop a headless zombie, while its head rolled to a stop a good ten feet away. Imoen looked at Lada and the zombie, then began giggling. Aribeth looked from Imoen to Lada and back again, confused. Why the giggles? As she looked, she noticed there were more zombies, coming from the back half of the cemetery She drew her swords, while Puff drew a wand from somewhere on her person.

"Oh, Lada," Imoen called, as she began the motions of a spell. "Looks like Fred doesn't get all the fun!"

As she hurled a fireball at a mass of zombies, Imoen began … singing? Aribeth stared at her in confusion, shook her head, and prepared to slice a zombie that was getting too close to her.

"People talking in movie shows," Imoen sang, as she fired a blast of magic missiles from a wand, "people smoking in bed"

"People voting Republican, give them a boot to the head!"

"Boot to the head!" Lada yelled, as she kicked the head off another zombie.

"Nyah-nyah," Imoen sang, firing another shot.

"Boot to the head!" Lada yelled, kicking the head off another zombie.

"Nyah-nyah," Imoen sang, firing another shot.

"Boot to the head!" Lada yelled, planting both feet on another zombie's face.

"Nyeah," Imoen sang, looking around for another target.

Aribeth wiped slime from her swords, while Puff, having shifted into her dragon form, lined up frozen zombies in a row, then knocked them over like dominoes.

"So what's behind Door Number One?" Fred asked, as he walked up to join them. "Is this that Arcane Brother's tomb?"

"That's what the man at the gate said," Imoen said. "It cost 50 gold to buy the key."

"Sheesh," Fred said. "He's a little thief, isn't he?"

"Something like that," Imoen said, with a secretive smile. "So, are you going to go entertain us, or are we going to have to put up with more Paladin PMS?"

"Humph!" Fred grumbled, then smiled and kissed Imoen. "Brat. I'll get you later."

Imoen giggled and patted Fred's butt as he turned to go through the door.

Fred's footsteps echoed up the stairs, making it easy to follow him down into the tomb. At the bottom, light flared as he drew his sword. Aribeth drew her own, giving light that the others could use to descend the stairway.

At the bottom, the sounds of combat came from further ahead. When they exited the stairs, into the enormous open space that made up the first part of the tomb, Aribeth let out a gasp. No wonder the air had smelled so fowl! Not only were there dozens of zombies and skeletons, there were at least two open charnel pits, just within the area she could see.

Puff gestured, and the air around them immediately cleared, while Imoen set traps in a circle around them, leaving enough room in the center for all four to sit on the picnic blanket Lada was laying on the floor. Aribeth looked at the others, confused, as Lada took food and wine out of the sack Puff had brought from the tavern, and laid it out on the blanket. Imoen and Puff sat and poured from the wine bottles, while Lada carved off slices of meat and bread.

"Aren't we going to help Fred?" Aribeth asked.

"Not yet," Imoen said. "He'd be disappointed if we did."

"He'd be disappointed?" Aribeth asked.

"They're his toys," Lada said. "He doesn't always share this kind of toy well. He doesn't always play well with others, you might say. Besides, I promised."

"You promised?" Aribeth asked.

"Oh gods," Puff groaned. "He's singing."

"Yeah, I promised back at the temple," Lada said.

Imoen cast a spell, and the sound of Fred's voice came clearly to all of them.

"Look at this tomb," Fred sang,

"Isn't it dank?

Wouldn't you say

Its inhabitants rank?

Wouldn't you say that it's time

It's time to purge everything?

Look at the bodies

Walking around

How much foulness can you find in one cavern?

Looking around here you'd think

(Yup) there's undead galore"

"I kill zombies and liches and skeletons," Fred sang,

"I've got swords and arrows and wands galore

(You want a Flamestrike?"

A sudden bright flash and explosion came from deeper in the tomb.

"I've got plenty)

But who cares?

Can't you see?

I need more"

"I need to be where the undead are," Fred sang

"I need to hack

And to banish evil

Making the skeletons

(What do they call it?) Oh yeah – fry"

Another bright flash and explosion echoed through the tomb.

"Blocking a blow opens up for a slash

Everyone knows that a sword is for reaping

Heads from the undead infesting this

(What's that word again?) Tomb"

"You've nowhere to hide,"

The tomb lit up with another explosion.

"Nowhere to run,"

Another explosion rocked the tomb.

"Your tomb, it will burn like the heart of the sun,"

A series of explosions lit up the tomb, in rapid-fire succession.

"With infinite glee

It's going to be me

Who slaughters your world

"How could I walk

Into this tomb

And not purge it?

How can I see

All these undead

And not mow them down?

I'm willing to bet

Everyone feels

Like their world is a much brighter place

Without this plague

Wandering round

Up on the streets

"I'm ready to find where the master is

Ready to flame him

And disassemble

His minions and servants and send him to

(Where's that place?) Hell"

The depths of the tomb lit up with another string of explosions run together so closely the light from one didn't have time to fade before the light from the next added to it, until the reflected glare was as bright as the light from Imoen's Daylight spell.

"The stench in the air," Fred continued singing,

"The smell of the gore

The carnage far greater than any war

My legacy

(sigh) Death becomes me

I'll slaughter your world."

Lada stretched and lay her head in Aribeth's lap. Aribeth blinked, looking down at Lada, then up at the others.

"See?" Imoen said. "He's not even winded."

"Not even …," Aribeth stammered. "But that's … that's …."

"Disturbing?" Imoen asked. "Yup."

"That's our Fred," Lada said, then sighed contentedly.

"Lada?" Aribeth asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Are you OK?"

"So, do you think he'll ask us to come help him haul away loot?" Puff asked.

"Depends on whether dropped his pack before he started the slaughter," Imoen said.

"Wasn't Eltoora looking for this book?" Fred's voice muttered. "Might as well take it. Even if she doesn't want it, I'm sure Imoen will."

"Oh good," Imoen said. "He remembered the book."

"I'm good," Lada said, "but I can move if you're uncomfortable."

"I'm …," Aribeth started, then asked, hesitantly, "Why me, when you have Imoen and Puff?"

"Being here is what feels right," Lada said. "Contrary to how it may seem, I'm worried about him, too."

Puff leaned over and stage-whispered to Aribeth, "Enjoy the lowered inhibitions while they last."

Aribeth felt her skin heat up in a deep blush. When she looked down at Lada, she saw that Lada was just as red as she felt.

"If you haven't learned it yet," Lada's thought reached Aribeth, "don't ever stick your tongue out at Puff, or flip her off, or she'll take it as an invitation, and you'll have to explicitly give her an IOU for later."

Aribeth felt her blush growing deeper, and she brought her hands up to hide her face, while thinking, "Does she ever think of anything else?"

"She's a teenager, who practices Blue Magic," Lada thought. "No."

"That's why Imoen is so much more mature?" Aribeth thought. "Well, except when Puff is leading her on, anyway?"

"Life experiences have a lot to do with that," Lada thought, sadly.

"That's why Penelope both terrifies and enrages her?" Aribeth thought.

"Yes," Lada thought, while radiating a fierce protectiveness. "It's not my story to tell. But it's actually good to see Imoen acting like a silly teenager with Puff. It means we must be doing something right."

"You think so?" Aribeth thought. "I'm not sure I was ever that silly."

"I'm sure life experiences have a lot to do with that, too," Lada thought, sadness entering her thoughts again.

"I'm sure," Aribeth thought, lowering her hands and, unsure what else to do, stroking Lada's hair. Something about it made her feel … comforted, as if Lada belonged there. It felt good, relaxing, even soothing, in a way that she didn't want to stop.

Lada shifted and looked up, her blind eyes settling on a spot somewhere above Aribeth's head. She smiled and reached up to gently touch Aribeth's cheek. Aribeth sighed softly and pressed against Lada's hand.

"You feel so … right," Aribeth said softly, then turned to kiss Lada's hand. "Not so excitable, like Puff, or skittish, like Imoen. You feel … like Fred, sort of." She sighed and rubbed her cheek against Lada's hand.

Lada reached for Aribeth's hand and gently kissed it, while thinking, "Thank you. That means a lot to me. You feel right to me, too."

Fred walked out of the distance, whistling cheerfully. He stopped when one of Imoen's traps went off and sprayed him with holy water, rinsing off much of the gore that covered him. After a moment to let himself drip, he walked up behind Imoen and dropped a sack on the floor, then bent down and firmly kissed her. "Thank you, love. I hadn't realized it had been so long."

"Someone has to watch out for you," Imoen teased, grinning. "Did you find any good stuff?"

"Eh, you know," Fred said, "A little bit of this, a little bit of that. I found that book Eltoora wants, though, I think."

Imoen pulled what looked like a small book with a wire binding out of one of her pouches, and flipped through it, studied it for a moment, then asked, "Tome of Life?"

"That's what it says it is, anyway," Fred said.

"Yup," Imoen said. "That's one of the books on the list."

"Found that corpse hand, too," Fred said. "I'll pay someone to drop it in the monk's lap when we get back to town."

"Good plan," Imoen said. "He's creepy."

"Are you talking about Grimgnaw?" Aribeth asked, shuddering just a bit. He really was creepy. Being in the same room with him made her almost as uncomfortable as being with Penelope. Being with both of them at the same time really creeped her out.

"That's the one," Fred said. "Little psychopath creeps me out, but he needs this to release some of his brothers who've been cursed with undeath. Otherwise, I'd burn it."

Puff looked up at Fred and pouted. Fred laughed and kissed her, then patted her cheek gently, before looking at Aribeth and teasingly asking, "Are you going to pout at me, too?"

"Do I have to?" Aribeth laughed. Fred answered for her by giving her a kiss. He smiled down at Lada and whispered, "You'll get yours later, love," while taking her free hand and bending to kiss her fingertips.

"How does he keep up with three – no, four – women?" Aribeth thought.

"We keep Puff entertained ourselves," Lada thought, "and we don't expect him to perform every day, even with the Blue Magic. Besides, it's never been all about the sex. It's always been about the love."

"And he sure has enough of that to go around," Aribeth thought. "If I didn't feel that for myself, I think I'd be jealous of the rest of you." She looked down at Lada thoughtfully. "Did you have anything to do with that? I remember him saying something about being as psychic as a rock."

"Guilty," Lada thought.

"Why?" Aribeth thought. "You could have gone on just fine without me, but you made sure I could feel how much he loves me, so I'd be sure to choose him. And I got the strong feeling that he loves each one of you just as strongly, just as deeply, just as thoroughly."

"It's just part of what I do," Lada thought. "One of my jobs is to help all of us communicate. Especially Fred." She blushed, and Aribeth caught a feeling of embarrassment. "I wanted you, too. You're closer to my age, and I wanted someone to love who has more maturity."

"You wanted me, too?" Aribeth thought, looking down at Lada, surprised. "I …." She found herself without words, even in her thoughts. Instead, she felt her surprise being mingled with happiness and confusion, and she bent down to gently kiss Lada.

Lada returned the kiss, just as gently, while sending feelings of love and comfort to Aribeth, without any demands.

Fred smiled at Lada and Aribeth, then picked up the loot sack and carried it to an empty space in the circle of women. After he sat down, he took out his … pistols … and pressed buttons on their sides. Pieces fell out of the bottoms of the pistols, and Fred inserted new pieces that looked just the same, except they had his strange bullets in them. After he moved the tops of the pistols and put them back into their holsters, he pushed back his sleeves, revealing wand holsters on both arms, opened one of his pouches, and began removing wands from it, which he slid into the holsters. That done, he opened the loot bag and began to search through its contents. While he was doing so, Imoen assembled a sandwich for him from the mutton, bread, and cheese, and Puff poured him a glass of wine.


	8. Chapter 8

I raised my hand and stopped , just a few feet into the first large clearing on the road into Neverwinter Wood. Everyone else stopped with me, and we scanned the clearing, while listening for any unusual noises.

"Didn't Aarin say Penelope claimed she had come this way?" I asked, keeping my voice low enough to carry only as far as the others.

"That's right," Aribeth said. "She claimed she had come this way, and had not found any evidence of cultists."

"I think we can fairly easily prove she was lying," I said, sheathing my sword and drawing a bow – Imoen had said it was called "Ripper" – I had found in the hoard of a young red dragon we had encountered on our way to Neverwinter. I opened the top of a quiver filled with acid arrows, nocked one, and hissed, "Fire or acid, everyone. Lada, do you have any pyrokinetic tricks up your sleeve?"

"Not as far as I know," Lada said. "Sorry. All I have are these flaming fist gauntlets."

"Those will do just fine," I said. That meant we were only going to have to watch out for Aribeth. She was able to hurt them, but not able to keep them down. "Just stay out of reach of their claws when you're booting their heads, OK?"

"OK," Lada said. I felt her reaching out and touching each one of us, so if anyone was in trouble, the rest of us would know it instantly. Aribeth seemed surprised by the link, but when each of us sent a thought of love at her, she relaxed.

"What do you think, Imoen?," Puff asked. "Wall of Fire?"

"Great idea," Imoen said. "Where's the biggest group?"

"There isn't one," Puff said. "Just a bunch of them wandering around, solo. The one Fred saw is closest to us."

"Sounds like an Incendiary Cloud is a better idea, then," Imoen said. "Everyone ready?"

"Fire at will," I said. It really did sound like a good idea, especially if Lada could coax them into the fire.

"Ready," Lada said. She sent me a mental nod of agreement.

"Ready," Aribeth said, moving to my left, to cover me in case any tried to get close while I was firing my bow.

"Go for it," Puff said.

Imoen fired her spell, centering it just past the troll I had originally seen. The clearing lit up like the streets of Neverwinter, as a cloud of flaming vapors appeared in the middle, its light penetrating the early morning fog. The cloud was large enough to not only catch the troll I had seen, but two others as well. All three let out shrieks and began flailing about, blinded by the surrounding flames. I took aim on the nearest troll, let myself find the calmness I needed to successfully shoot, and let my arrow fly. The troll dropped, my arrow protruding from its left ear.

Puff shifted to her natural form and lifted off, circled the fire, and began herding trolls toward the cloud. While she was in the air, I dropped the other two trolls that were in the flames, and slowly walked closer to the cloud. While Aribeth kept up with me on one side, flanking me, Imoen and Lada moved up on my other side, Lada keeping a position that flanked Imoen, with Imoen in the middle of our group, where anything attacking us would have to go through at least one other person to get to her.

We were close enough to the cloud to feel the heat of the flames, when the first of the trolls Puff was herding got close enough to see clearly through the mist. Within moments of my being able to see them clearly, they began running toward the fire, as if trying to hide from Puff within the flames. Puff kept her position in the air, circling the clearing as if searching for any more trolls. Imoen and I put each of the trolls that was hiding inside the cloud out of its misery, then waved at Puff. Once the fire died, she landed in front of us and shifted to her human form.

"That was way too easy!" Puff complained. "If Penelope had come this way, those trolls would already be dead."

"Exactly," I said. "That's how I knew she had to have lied. I suppose we should go help those poor archaeologists, then."

"Archaeologists?" Aribeth asked.

"Yes," Imoen said. "An expedition from Waterdeep, exploring some ruins that their leader thinks are sarrukh in origin. They were driven out of the ruins by ogres and trolls. Is that the group you're thinking of, love?"

"That's the one," I said. "Shall we?"

"Thanks, Puff," Lada said. "I hate having to herd things my way."

"I know, sweetie," Puff said, while giving Lada a hug. "I hate it when you're sad."

"Hello, the gate!" I called, as we approached a wooden stockade, with gates made of heavy planks, held together by large iron bolts and beams.

A head popped over the fence and looked down. A moment later, the gates creaked open. As soon as we were through, two men pushed the gates closed and dropped a heavy beam into a set of iron hooks, locking it closed.

"Are you the reinforcements from Waterdeep?" the man who had popped up above the fence asked.

"No," I said. "We're from Port Llast."

As soon as they heard my answer, All three men drew their swords and pointed them at us, while yelling for reinforcements. I heard running coming from further down the road, where a barracks building was just about hidden behind some trees. My pistols were in my hands before the first reinforcements arrived, and I had them aimed at the apparent leader of this bunch a moment later.

"Wait, Fred," Aribeth said, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Let's find out why they're so upset, first."

"Find out why we're so upset!" the man who had yelled said. "After what your people did to that poor, innocent priestess?"

"Poor, innocent priestess?" Lada asked. She tapped her way to a position between me and the angry man. "Who are you talking about?"

The angry man started to snarl at her, then he gave a double-take and waved his hand in front of her face. When he realized she was blind, his entire attitude changed, and he looked at all of us differently.

"You're from Port Llast?" he asked, giving us all a suspicious, but confused, look. "But you're traveling with a blind woman."

"Actually," I said, "I'm married to that blind woman. So I'd greatly appreciate it if you didn't do anything to make her unhappy."

"You're …," the man said, his voice trailing off and his expression one of complete surprise. "But … that other one …. You'd better come with us."

We fell in behind him, while several of his compatriots surrounded us, with shortswords or crossbows in their hands. They escorted us to the barracks, then upstairs, where the leader spoke quietly with another of them, who was standing guard outside a door in the upper hall. The guard looked suspiciously at all of us, but nodded slowly, then slipped through the door, leaving the others to guard us while he did whatever he was up to. After a few moments, he returned, and nodded to the one who had led us to him.

"I'll expect you all to be quiet and respectful while you're in there," the one who had led us said. "Whatever you may do in Port Llast, we won't tolerate it here, and if you try it, you'll find we aren't as helpless as we seem."

We looked at each other, and it was obvious that the others were as confused as I was, so I nodded to our escort. He opened the door and led us through.

Aribeth let out a horrified gasp, Puff broke into tears, and Imoen threw up. You know how elves look as if they've stopped aging, once they reach adulthood, until suddenly, they look ancient? That's only true until they've been subjected to some sort of extreme trauma. Then, every year they've lived catches up to them, all at once. We had been led into what was probably the guest quarters of this camp, for sponsors or other honored guests. The elf who was laying in the bed probably didn't qualify as a sponsor, though. It took all my will to not join the others in my reactions, and the only thing that gave me the strength to do so was imagining revisiting her traumas on whoever had inflicted them on her. She had been blinded, most likely by some kind of hot iron. That was the first thing I noticed. Once I got past the horrible burn scars around her eye sockets, I saw that someone had slit her ears, several times, and left the strips to heal, or not, without any attempt to keep them together. Her face had received the same treatment – whoever had tortured her had cut strips of skin off her face, peeled them back, and left them to hang. When she opened her mouth, I saw that she had no teeth, and her tongue had also been cut into strips.

The people of the camp had arranged some kind of framework under the bedding, so it wouldn't put any pressure on her body, so there was no way to tell what condition the rest of her body was in, but I felt it was probably a safe bet that her tormenter had not stopped with her face. Below her neck, the only thing I could see was her arms, and those were broken in so many places, they looked more like tentacles than arms. There were so many breaks in her hands, they were swollen and purple, and I could tell that if they weren't healed, she would lose them to gangrene.

"You don't have any healers here?" I asked our escort.

"None," our escort said. "And when we were set to send to Port Llast for a priest, Penelope told us that she had brought her to us, from Port Llast, so that she would be safe from the people there."

"Did you say Penelope?" Imoen asked, after wiping her face on a cloth one of the camp residents had handed her.

"Yes," our escort said. He looked around at us all, confusion and fear on his face, as he asked, "Why?"

"That explains it," I said. "This looks like Penelope's work."

"Looks like …," our escort started, stopped, then stared at me. "Are you trying to say that she did this?"

"I am," I said. "There's only one way to find out for sure, though. We need to heal her. Aribeth?"

"Already on it," Aribeth said, as she brought out her holy symbol and held it firmly in one hand, then began praying over the woman in the bed.

"This is going to take a miracle, I think," Imoen said. "Do we have any in the scroll cabinet?"

"I"m not sure," I said. "We have a few wishes, though. What do you think?"

"Will this help?" our escort asked, offering a small box. "When we cleaned her up and put her up here, we found these on her body."

I looked through the box, and found the usual small things a person would carry – money pouch, a pouch full of personal tools and utensils, and a silver necklace, with a pendant full moon and bow emblem. I let out a quiet curse, and walked over to stand on the opposite side of the bed from Aribeth.

"Did Penelope do this to you, Linu?" I asked. Aribeth started when I said her name, and Linu moaned, then nodded weakly. "We'll do what we can, OK? Just hold on, Linu. It's not time for you to join Synth yet." From the side of the bed, I could see that she had also been scalped in strips, with the skin between the strips left in place, hair and all. I growled softly as I stepped away from the bed, and said softly, "Lada, can you help me find the right scrolls?"

Lada nodded, reached out, and clutched my arm in a death grip. It was obvious that she was using every bit of spare power she had, coping with Linu's pain.

Without waiting for permission, I led Lada out of the room and down the stairs. We went out the back door of the barracks and found an open spot of ground nearby. I tossed down the house and triggered its command word, then stood back while it grew to its functional size. Once I got Lada inside, she relaxed noticeably.

"What did Penny _do_ to her?" Lada asked. "She was in so much pain, I'm surprised she didn't have an aneurysm or a heart attack."

"Tortured her," I said, as we walked through the entry hall to the workroom wing. "All I can think is that Linu objected to something Penny was doing, and so Penny decided to give her an 'education' in why interfering with someone as evil and powerful as her is a bad idea. She's going to need a lot of help to recover from this. Not just the miracle, but emotional help, too."

"I know," Lada sighed. "It's my job. One reason I haven't exhausted myself taking the pain, yet."

I searched through the scroll cabinet until I found a couple Wish scrolls, then wrote a note and stuck it to one of the cabinet doors to remind myself to get a second cabinet so that we could sort the arcane and divine scrolls separately.

"Do you think you can face her again?" I asked Lada. "Or would you rather wait until she's no longer in as much pain?"

"As long as I don't touch her," Lada said, "or any of her things, I should be OK. The problem is, will Penny realize when she's not in this much pain? I mean, for all I know, she eats it."

"Somehow, I don't think Penny expects her to still be alive, given the condition she's in," I said.

"OK," Lada said, looking as if she didn't entirely believe me. "Somehow, I wouldn't put it past Penny to be keeping her alive, as a food source. Like a succie."

"Succie?" I asked.

"Sorry," Lada said, blushing. "Succubus. It's from Metamor City."

"Oh!" I said. "Right. That was the last book you had on your iPod, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," Lada said. "One of many I'll never finish."

"Well," I said, reaching out to touch her shoulder, while trying to focus on anything other than how much I wanted to vivisect Penny, "I grabbed two Wish scrolls, in case she did something that requires a second wish to eliminate before we can heal Linu. Ready to re-take the plunge?"

"Ready as I'm going to be," Lada said.

We walked out of the house, into a circle of guards, all aiming their crossbows at the door. I let out a deep sigh and looked around until I found someone who looked as if he might have a little authority.

"Would you people mind?" I asked. "We're trying to get back to Linu so we can heal her. The longer you delay us, the longer she suffers. And, the greater the chance that she'll die before we can do anything. Aribeth is a paladin, not a priest. She can't heal her without help."

"Who's Linu?" one of the guards demanded.

"Linu is the woman upstairs in the barracks," I said, slowly, as if explaining to an utter moron. "You know, the one that psychopathic bitch tortured almost to death and then left you people to deal with?"

"How do you know who she is?" another guard demanded.

"I recognized her holy symbol," I said. "She is a priestess of Sehanine Moonbow, which is probably why she was tortured the way she was."

"You really want to take us to the man in charge," Lada said. I had this image of Sir Alec Guiness waving his hand, and had to bite my lip to keep from snickering.

The guards parted, and the one I had guessed was probably closest to being in charge pointed at us and barked, "You two, come with me."

"These are not the droids you're looking for," I whispered, just loud enough to reach Lada's ears.

"I need to keep a straight face here, dear," Lada whispered back.

The guard led us straight back to the room Linu was in. I handed Imoen the scrolls, and moved to the bed, opposite Aribeth. It was obvious that Aribeth had used up every healing spell she knew, but at least Linu's hands didn't look as if they were in danger of developing gangrene any more, and when I looked at Lada, she didn't have the sheen of sweat that she had had before I took her downstairs.

"Good," the man who had escorted us originally said. "You're back. Did you find that miracle you were talking about?"

"You know these people?" the guard demanded. "Why didn't you say something?"

"You weren't available," our escort said. "They're doing their best to help her, so give them some room.

"Puff?" I asked. Imoen pointed to a chair in the corner, where Puff was curled up, sobbing quietly.

Lada walked over to the chair and took Puff in her arms. Puff's sobs, while not vanishing entirely, did grow less obvious.

"What do you need us to do?" I asked Imoen.

"Give me a minute to read the scroll," Imoen said, distracted, while unrolling one of the scrolls and scanning its contents, "to see if there are any gotchas in it that we need to account for. Meanwhile, why not see if Linu is able to swallow safely? A couple healing potions might help speed things along."

"Good idea," I said, while opening my potions pouch. I skimmed my fingers over the vials, until I found one with a healing marker, and took it out of the pouch. Since I only carried full healing potions, I knew that if an ordinary healing potion would do the work, this one would. "Linu? Do you think you can swallow a potion?"

Linu let out a terrified noise, half moan and half squeal, as she shook her head frantically. She attempted to raise her arms, but only succeeded in making them flop about on the bed.

"No potions, then," I said, gently. "I promise, no one will try to give you a potion. I give you my word, Linu. I will not allow anyone to try to give you a potion."

She stopped making the frightened noises then, but even so, she was tense, as if on the verge of trying to push her broken body to flee if we tried to force a potion on her.

I thought a moment, then said, softly, to myself, "Well, it can't hurt to try. If nothing else, it should get these people off our backs while we fix her." I called up the Aura of Glory, and as I felt it settling over myself, I noticed a few more of Linu's wounds closing. None of the deeper, or more severe ones, but even a minor wound closing was an improvement. I also noticed that the guards and the other people from the camp seemed less hostile now.

"I think this might work," Imoen said softly, then looked up at me. "This just might work. I don't know where we got these scrolls, but they actually leave open the entity you call on to grant the wish."

"You mean …," I said, sensing a definite potential for the best possible outcome.

"Yes," Imoen said. "We could ask specifically for Sehanine to grant the wish."

"That's perfect!" I said. "All we need to do, then, is word it so she'll tell us what, if anything, we need to do to complete Linu's healing after she's done restoring her to perfect health."

"Yup," Imoen said, smiling at me. She took out her notepad and began scribbling on it. "I'll start working on the wording right now. You and Aribeth keep her comfortable, OK?"

"As much as we can," I said. I looked over at Aribeth and said softly, "Go ahead and sit down, sweetheart. I'll keep her company, if you want to rest."

"I can't," Aribeth said, giving me a guilty look. "All the times I was annoyed with her, all the times I wished she'd just go away and stop causing disasters, I never wanted anything like this. I never wanted her to get hurt. But look at her."

"You never wanted her to get hurt," I said. "And you didn't have anything to do with her getting hurt. This was Penelope's doing. She is solely to blame for this."

Lada kissed Puff's cheek and gently pushed her toward Imoen, then stood up and walked over to Aribeth.

"Fred's right," Lada said, as she put a hand on Aribeth's arm. "This isn't your doing."

"Isn't it?" Aribeth asked. "Penelope is still out there, because I didn't deal with her the way I should have."

"Because _Lord_ Nasher would have immediately overruled you," I said. "Don't forget that."

"In Neverwinter," Aribeth said. "Out here, I am … Gods, I am …." She sat down suddenly, landing on the chair that Lada had just kicked into her path, a stunned look on her face. "I am the senior ranking officer of Neverwinter in Port Llast," she whispered. "Only Captain Kendrack outranks me, but that's only regarding local justice. I am the final authority for all matters to do with Neverwinter."

"Oh my," I said. If that were the case, then Aribeth could finally deal with problems that Nasher had been overruling her on, or had been forcing her to allow to fester, at least as far as they could be dealt with out here.

"I think I have it," Imoen said. "Puff, would you check what I've got here and tell me if you think it's good?"

Puff blinked, surprised, and took the notebook Imoen was holding in front of her. She read what was written in it, her face screwed up in thought. Obviously, she was trying to think of any way that whatever Imoen had written could be misconstrued. After over a minute, she finally shook her head, then looked at Imoen with a smile. "I think you've got it, love. I can't think of _any_ way that what you wrote there could be misinterpreted, re-interpreted, or used to hurt anyone."

"Excellent," Imoen said. "In that case, we're ready to make a Wish."

I looked over at Aribeth and Lada, then smiled down at Linu. Linu looked as if she were caught between hope and terror. I wished I could do something to ease her, but there wasn't really anything I could think of. Puff gave Imoen a hug and a quick kiss, then stepped back, while Imoen opened the Wish scroll she had been working from, and, consulting what she had written, began reading. The Wish culminated with the stated desire, as Imoen said, "We wish for Sehanine Moonbow to restore her priestess, Linu La'neral, to perfect health, and to grant to we, her friends, Aribeth, Fred, Lada, Imoen, and Puff, the knowledge, wisdom, and understanding we need to help her gain mental, emotional, and spiritual wholeness, so that she is totally healed of the harm done to her by or under the authority of Penelope of Candlekeep."

"You know," I heard in my mind, in an amused tone, "you could have just told me it was Linu, and spared yourselves all the mental gymnastics." The mental voice changed from amusement to anger, bordering on rage, as she continued. "I expect that you will do everything in your power to bring that woman to justice. She harmed my child. If you do not bring her to justice, _I will._ And I am not nearly so fine-toothed as you will be."

From the looks on the faces of the others, it was clear I was not the only one who had heard Sehanine, so I didn't hold my tongue. "Oh, trust me, I have every reason in the world to bring her to justice. Just come along for the ride."

Linu began to giggle. Her giggles turned to laughter, and soon she was curled up in the bed, laughing hysterically. Lada started to reach out to her, but Aribeth caught her arm and whispered, "Let me, love. At least, until she's not being quite so hysterical, OK?"

"I was going to send you to get clothes," Lada said. "Mine will be too big, but, OK."

"We can worry about that later," Aribeth said, as she sat on the edge of the bed and gathered Linu into her arms. Linu's laughter soon turned to tears, and she sobbed against Aribeth's chest until she had fallen asleep. Aribeth gently lay her on the bed, reached under the bedding and removed the framework the camp people had set up, and tucked the bedding up around her shoulders. "She'll be OK now, I think."

"Now, my work begins," Lada said, "because the nightmares will start."

"Who would you rather sat up with you?" Imoen asked, reaching out to gently squeeze Lada's shoulder.

"You're going to end up having nightmares, too," Lada said, with a heavy sigh. "You might as well stay." She reached out to touch Imoen's cheek, and whispered, "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

"Do you need me to take care of that other problem, Lada?" I asked, remembering why we had headed out here in the first place.

"Please," Lada said. "If you need me to touch his ring or anything, to see what happened, I will. I know you'll make sure he's safe."

"Will do," I said. I started out the door, just as Lada added, "I'm sorry it's too late to save his father."

Downstairs, I grabbed the first person I could find, and asked, "Can you point me at Revat?"

"Revat?" he answered. "Why do you want him? The only reason he's here is because his mother's on the team." He looked around conspiratorially and added, "Of course, if we could keep him, and get rid of her, _everyone_ would be a lot happier."

"That's what I'm working on," I said. "Did she make it back after the ogre attack?"

"No …," he said.

"How long ago was the ogre attack?" I asked.

"About two weeks," he said. "Why?"

I grimaced. Two weeks was not good news. Not good at all. Imagining her, trapped inside a force field, unable to eat or drink, or even cast spells, for two weeks, gave me a pretty good image of what I was likely to find. Then again, she was a mage, and mages were different. I've known Elminster to go for weeks without remembering to eat or drink, when he was deeply involved in a particularly interesting text.

"Damn," I said. "If she's alive, she's going to be cranky as hell."

"You're not actually planning to try to find her, are you?" he asked, giving me a surprised look.

"Revat's not going to stop asking where she is until I do, right?" I asked.

"Right," he said, with a heavy sigh. "Poor kid doesn't seem to understand he's better off without her."

"She probably dropped him on his head when he was a baby," I muttered.

He laughed. "That's the general opinion around here, you know." He held out a hand. "Name's Lenton. If you're planning to go in there, you think you could do me a favor?"

"Bring back the head of the troll chieftain?" I asked, as I shook his hand.

"How'd you guess?" he asked.

"Someone needs to kill the bastard," I said. "And you seem to be the only one around here who even remembers the ogre attack, much less cares about it."

"Well, after the priestess was brought in, we kind of lost interest in Jax's expedition," he said. "Now, we just want to get whoever did that to her, and make them pay."

"We've got that already planned," I said. "The woman who brought her in is the one who did that to her. And we're going to make her pay."

"You're kidding!" Lenton said. "And here we thought she was the one who rescued her!"

"She's apparently good at that," I said. "She kept the monks at Candlekeep flummoxed for six years before they finally kicked her out."

"Damn," Lenton said, with a low whistle. "She'd fit right in in Skullport."

"Most likely," I said. "Anyway, if you'll show me where to find Revat, I'll talk with him, then my partners and I can go take care of that troll problem."

"He's in the main bunkroom," Lenton said. "He hasn't moved from there, because he's afraid that if he does, his Momma will come back and not find him waiting for her."

"Thanks," I said. "I'll see what we can do for him."

"Janis? Where's the baby?" Revat's father asked, while standing in the door to her laboratory. We had already seen how the joke about him being dropped on his head as a baby hadn't been a joke after all, and now Lada had zoomed in on another incident that had impressed itself strongly on his father's ring.

"Oh, he's around here somewhere," Janis had replied, without bothering to turn away from her current experiment.

"_Where_, Janis?" the man insisted, afraid to enter the laboratory, but worried for his son.

"If my experiment is ruined by your whining, it'll be on your head," Janis grumbled, but she got up from her work bench and wandered around her lab, poking into corners and cabinets, until she finally opened a chest, from which she extracted the baby's cold, dead body. "Damn it! Now I suppose we're going to have to waste time and money on a priest."

"Don't bother," the man snarled, dashing into the laboratory and snatching away the baby's body. "I'll manage it myself. We wouldn't want to _inconvenience_ you, after all."

"Don't forget," Janis purred. "Without me, you're _nothing_. Even the money you're about to spend is mine."

"How could I?" the man muttered under his breath, as he left the laboratory with the body of his son. "You never give me the opportunity to."

Since we already knew that Revat's father had managed to get him raised, Lada scanned for the next incident that had left a strong impression on the ring.

"So, you think you're going to leave and take the baby, do you?" Janis snarled. "I think you're going to leave _without_ the baby, or you're going to stay."

"And what makes you think that?" Revat's father demanded.

"You're nothing but a peasant who got lucky," Janis said, a wicked grin on her face. "All I have to do is accuse you of stealing the baby, and you'll end up in the Bulwark. After all, who are they going to believe? A noblewoman, who happens to be the baby's mother? Or a peasant, who _might_ be the baby's father?"

"What do you mean, _might?_" Revat's father gasped.

"Well, a judge has no way to know if the man claiming to be a baby's father, really is," Janis purred, all but gloating as she spoke. "So he has to trust a mother's word for it. And if the mother says the man claiming to be the baby's father, isn't, he just has to believe her." She paused, then fired the shot that finished any thought he had of fighting her. "And remember, the law says that nobility is protected from any form of magical coercion, such as an elixir of truth or a detect lie spell. After all, nobility do not lie."

"Is that true?" Imoen asked, shocked by the images.

"They're from Waterdeep, right?" Aribeth confirmed. "I'm afraid it is. It's actually the law in most places. It's one of the laws we have never been able to get nobility to surrender, no matter where we have been able to work on the laws."

"Kevan," the priest of Ilmater greeted Revat's father. "This is the third time this month. What happened this time?"

"Janis let him crawl around the laboratory while she was studying a relic from some ruin she found near Triboar, and one of her other relics fell on him. At least, that's what she said when she handed me his body." By now, the outrage and fierce protectiveness that the earlier images had been filled with, had been replaced by a weary resignation, and he handed the toddler's body to the priest without any further word.

"Kevan," the priest said, after resurrecting Revat, "you're starting to sound as worn as Revat."

"Promise me," Kevan said wearily, "if anything happens to me, you'll keep an eye on Revat? He hasn't ever been quite right, and I'm afraid that if anything were to happen to me, she'd simply get rid of him at the first opportunity."

"You can't really think that, can you?" the priest asked. "She's his mother!"

"And look how many times I've been in here with him," Kevan said. "Every time, because of something she either did, or neglected to do. Just – don't let him die because of her. Please?"

"All right," the priest said. "I promise, I'll watch over him. Now, you promise me you'll do something for yourself, OK?"

"I will," Kevan said, his entire being aching for just one moment of relief, of freedom from the fear, both of Janis and for Revat. All he wanted was for the fear to end.

"This is really sad," Lada said, her voice soft as she looked up at the rest of us. "His death didn't even register on the ring. Either he wasn't wearing it, which I really doubt, or the terror he lived with before his death was so great that his death was a relief, rather than an impressive event."

"I can believe it," I said. "Remember who I was married to before I met you? I get the feeling Janis is a lot like her."

"I can believe it, too," Imoen said. "I would have considered death to be a release, when I was with Penelope."

"Let's not tell Puff about this, OK?" Aribeth asked.

"Yeah," Lada said. "One of us should have the chance to grow up at a more normal speed."

"That's what I was thinking," Aribeth said. "She's already dealing with what happened to Linu. Let's not make her deal with this, too."

"Good idea," I said. "Come to think of it, maybe someone else should come with me when I go to fetch Janis. _After_ we use that other Wish scroll to fix Revat."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Imoen asked. "I know you want to fix him, but think about it. How well would he be able to handle suddenly being as smart as if he'd never been dropped on his head? Right now, he could be happy at the orphanage. If you fix him? What would he do? What _could_ he do?"

"How about if we wish that his intelligence comes back to him _slowly?_" I suggested.

"The priority is to get him away from his mother," Lada said. There was a universal chorus of agreement to that. "Healthy male children have a high placement rate. So if we ask Ilmater to regress him to prior to the first injury, he might even get a better family, that wants him."

"Damn," I said. "That's the best idea I've heard yet. I know I can't think of a better one."

"My childhood was good," Imoen said. "At least, up until Candlekeep. I think it could work."

"There isn't really any written guidance for how to handle a situation like this," Aribeth said. "So I think your suggestion is the most workable one available."

"We'll just have to trust Ilmater to do it in such a way that he's not plagued by two sets of memories," Lada said.

"In that case," Imoen said, "I think you may want to find someone who can call for a Miracle, rather than relying on a Wish. Even with a god as good as Ilmater, the nature of a Wish is that it will warp your desires, unless you cover every contingency you can imagine. That's why I was so specific in wording my wish for Linu, even knowing I was calling on her goddess."

"Well," Lada said, "Puff can teleport me to the orphanage where Henri is, and I'm sure Kara can help me."

"Good plan," I said. "Assuming she's not on the road with her gang."

"They all know me there," Lada said. "Someone will help. Although now I think I'm going to have a reputation for bringing in disabled kids."

"Maybe so," I said, "but you're going to have to let me get the Elminster bag out of the warehouse before you go."

Lada looked at me quizzically. "That reminds me. I need a bereavement bear for Linu. And I need to get that bunny for Aribeth. Aribeth, did I give you your bunny?"

"My bunny?" Aribeth asked, confused.

"I'll be right back," I said. I got to my feet and headed through the door to the storage room so I could retrieve the stuffies and the Elminster bag, as I called it. It was just an ordinary bag of holding, but it was as big as a stereotypical Santa Claus bag, designed to be slung over the shoulder. And since I'd caught Elminster sneaking toys to children when he thought no adult was around to ruin his reputation, I refused to give up teasing him about being related to St. Nicholas. Especially after hearing the story of him being stuck in the chimney in the Moonstone Mask. I think he secretly likes it, because every time I bring it up, he teases Lada about sitting in his lap.

I came back into the hall, with the bag slung over my shoulder, just in time to hear Aribeth say, "But, you don't deal well with dirty old men!"

"I know," Lada said. "It's weird." She laughed. "Don't ask. And actually, he's only a lecher when Fred is in the room."

"I guess he knows when it's safe to tease you," I said, as I dropped the bag on the floor in front of Lada, then opened it up and stuck my head in while I searched in it for Linu's bear and Aribeth's bunny. While I was searching, I suddenly felt someone upend me into the bag. I came up sputtering and looking around. "OK, who's the wiseass?"

Aribeth was giggling madly, Imoen was doing her best to look innocent, and Lada was studiously knitting a sock.

"OK, I know Aribeth's innocent," I said. "That leaves either Imoen or Lada who needs punishment." Lada suddenly got a look of not-quite-terror on her face. Imoen and I both reached out to hug her. "Lada, it's OK. No one's going to get punished, least of all you."

"We were just playing, darling," Imoen said. "No one thinks you did anything bad."

"Oh-oh-oh," Lada stammered. "Oh-oh-OK."

Imoen and I looked at each other over Lada's head, while hugging her from both sides, and let out matching sighs.

"Sorry," Lada whimpered. "Sorry. Oh! I'm sorry for saying that."

"Lada," I said, as gently as I could, while mentally kicking myself. "You didn't do anything wrong. We were playing, that's all. I thought you might want to play along with us."

"I'd better go get Henri's new sweater and mittens and stuff," Lada said, "and put it together."

Lada got up and headed for the door to the workrooms, while Imoen and I looked at each other with matching expressions of worry. Aribeth took Imoen's hand in one of hers, and mine in her other hand, and tugged us both toward her.

"We should go deal with Janis," Aribeth said. "Lada can take care of Revat, while we're in the caves."

Without giving either me or Imoen a chance to argue, Aribeth led us out of the house and toward the caves.


End file.
